Alter Egos
by Nebula Zirconia
Summary: A new DADA teacher.Its a woman.With a leathal secret. Vashti. An ancient Demononwitch.Y was she not dead long ago?Cuz there's sumthin shes gotta do 1st, & Snape's the man for it.Altho he doesn't no that yet.'R'4a reason. inc HP,HG,RW...comin soon(V),SSetc
1. Alter Egos

Alter Egos  
  
The morning of September 1st began with dark, thunderous clouds creeping across the beautiful dawn sky. A great foreboding was in the air, though; a storm was brewing. It was as if nature itself was reminding the excited yet somewhat anxious students of Hogwarts, a school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, that today they would return; for better, or for worse. But perhaps it was not only the students it was warning this time.This particular year would be one of great revelations for the Staff, most importantly, two of them.  
  
When the students had arrived from the carriages, and the first years had been gathered for the Sorting, the school's three most famous pupils, Harry, Hermione and Ron, sat pensively in the middle of the long Gryffindor table. Their summers had all been relatively average; there were no major attacks on Harry's life, not including his Uncle Vernon's 'strangulation-of- Harry' obsession in July.  
  
He had caught him polishing his Firebolt and decided he could take no more of this freakish behavior. Then Harry had retaliated by threatening his Aunt Petunia's most favourite, and valuable, vase. It was a tense moment, as the two stood defiant in the centre of the living room. He knew the punishments he'd be getting the second he let go of the rim of the dangling vase, but his broomstick was his passion, and his only ticket out of there.  
  
Eventually a truce was negotiated, using stern glares and downright lies. Harry somehow made it safely back to the confinement of his bedroom, knowing he wouldn't see food for a few weeks.or at least until Hedwig, his snowy owl, had returned with valuable presents of cake, chocolate and butterbeer from his friends.  
  
Hermione had been studying hard during August, trying to motivate herself for work (which she didn't need to) by pouring over countless Potions books and encrypting more varieties of Runes, which fascinated her. So, naturally, when she was reunited with her friends again, she took the liberty of informing them of the most interesting chunks of knowledge. And, naturally, none of them wanted to hear it; their minds been sapped dry during the summer. But they grinned and bore it. Somehow.  
  
Ron spent much of his time practicing Quidditch with his brothers, Fred and George, but only whenever they could bear to tear themselves away from their room. He had his suspicions about what they were doing in there, ever since he'd got up during the middle of the night to go to the toilet. He noticed a thick pool of porridge-like goo, giving off noxious fumes, oozing from beneath their bedroom door. Enough to arouse anyone's suspicions. But he thought better of it and decided to return to his noisy bedroom.  
  
The next day there was a lot of quiet panic and a pair of grim and sullen looking twins. They were trying repair a large burn hole in the landing floor and waft away a sickly green mist that hung in the air. Ron sniggered at them and decided to avoid the stairs at all costs by flying out of his window to the kitchen below, waiting for the inevitable screams of horror from his mother. To his utter amazement, they never came. Somehow they had managed to fix it. Later they confessed to him that Fred had 'borrowed' a jinxed fan to get rid of the mist, and George had discovered a charm that expanded the wood where the hole had been. The only danger was, it had apparently been expanded a few times before, and now, it was becoming very, very thin.  
  
That afternoon at Hogwarts, however, they were all sitting there at their table in silence. Usually they would've been yapping away to each other about their exploits, especially just after dinner, but Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, had called for a special silence. He was about to make an important announcement, about to whom the delegation of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year would go. Standing at the centre of the long Head Table, gesturing slightly, he had proceeded to say:  
  
".your new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts will be-"  
  
Everyone was amazed at how he could hear that small rap on the great, solid entrance doors. Albus gazed down expectantly. Then slowly the large brass handle turned, and a small, pale hand curled around the edge of the door. Then, even more slowly, a head appeared, covered by a dark, drenched cloak.  
  
"Hello.Sorry I'm dreadfully late." A female voice croaked timidly. Sheepishly, she edged herself around the door and shut it. Her face was mainly hidden under the shadow of her hood, but the shaky smile that appeared on it could still be made out.  
  
"Miss Zirconia, your timing is truly impeccable. I couldn't have planned it better myself. We are all delighted to see that you've made it. Now, Delby! " He winked obviously with a strange smile, and then clapped his hands together and a rather clean and presentable-looking house elf appeared at his side. "Take this dear lady's traveling cloak then dry it out and return it to her quarters."  
  
"Certainly, Sir" Then it almost ran towards her, swept off her cloak before she even knew what was happening, and disappeared.  
  
The hall had been quite quiet apart from the outburst of whispers that had occurred when she had arrived, but now, those curious little whispers had turned into fully-fledged murmurs. Well, obviously, Hermione's was the only comment to be heard about the disgrace of the house elf; everyone else was too busy discussing the new teacher. Harry and Ron, like everyone else, were ignoring their friend and gazing intently at the tall, slender but nicely curved, woman in front of them.  
  
She had her very long, wavy, dark red hair twisted round into a loose bun at the top of her head, which was held together by something with sharp spines protruding from it. Her dress, too, Professor McGonagall clearly approved of judging by her thin lipped smile, was corset-like around the bodice, delicately embroidered with swirling shapes then with tight sleeves that ended just above her finger tips with a frilly cuff. The velvety, emerald-green dress skimmed the surface of the cold stone floor as she began to walk more confidently up towards Dumbledore. It was also noticeable that she wore only one piece of jewelry - a long, thin chained necklace that held two stones twisted around each other strangely into one - scarlet and black - that hung firmly above her chest, almost over her heart.  
  
All the teachers beamed at her, as she took a seat between Minerva and Mrs. Sprout. Except, as always, Professor Snape. To those who knew him rather well, it was clear he was trying to decide which expression his face should hold. Should it be 'utter contempt' or 'intrigue' at this new and interesting colleague? Naturally he chose 'utter contempt'.  
  
When he first saw her, he immediately thought - "What complete pansy has Albus got for the job now? God, I give her 2 days" resting his head in his left hand. Then when she was seated and past the vague introductions, and was about to begin the meal that she was late for, she clumsily knocks over the salt shaker. His next exasperated thought was "Maximum."  
  
Sitting three seats away to her left, he stared unblinkingly at her across the table, considering everything he could criticize about her, which happened to be a lot. This 'Miss Zirconia' seems to be quite popular, he noticed. All smiling and happy, with her contagious laughter infecting everyone. Idiots. Someone curse me. Please. I've tried to commit suicide enough times on my own but it just doesn't seem to work. Another God- forsaken woman at this school, that's why it's in the state it is today. And Albus might as well be a woman for his eccentric ness.  
  
He looked down at the Great Hall, still filled with excited little children, chatting until their heads were about to fall off. Oh well, if he couldn't bleed this misery out of him, he'd just have to find something else to take it out on. A nasty sneer crept over his face. 'I suppose I could just bottle it all up tonight and save it for tomorrow morning. I'm sure Potter won't mind being the base of my favourite hobby, as always.' Severus Snape was Harry's 'jovial' Potions Master- (sarcasm). He detested every particle that made up Harry's skinny little body. But the brat seemed too stupidly arrogant these days to react to his professor's cutting remarks, which made him hate the boy even more.  
  
As the evening wore on, Severus was itching to escape to his dungeons. For how much longer would he be forced to keep his butt planted firmly on this seat, while listening to the life story of some random person? It was sheer politeness and manners, basically that kept him there. But not for much longer. Finally Albus dismissed everyone and people began filing out. Snape was first out of his chair, but not quite fast enough to the door.  
  
"Professor! Professor! Wait!" A desperate voice sounded above the rest. What are the chances that that voice is calling me? He wondered. Very likely. Ignoring it completely anyway, he continued to sweep proudly along the corridor until he had no choice but to stop and face the person who was running after him and being thoroughly irritating. Turning his head round very slowly with a scowl etched into his face, he had expected to see a midget-sized first year stalking him, but was rather surprised to see a fully grown woman, namely, the new Defence teacher. Of course his surprise was hidden by a sharp greeting.  
  
"Miss Zirconia, I believe we have already been introduced, and I'm sure you have noticed that I am rather busy at the moment." He said sarcastically, with a stony face, not even looking at her properly.  
  
"I'm very sorry to disturb you, Professor.."she asked politely.  
  
"Snape." He snapped irritably.  
  
The young woman was clearly taken aback. After all she had noticed he barely spoke to her all evening, but continuing to be rude? She had to let this guy know that, although she was new and everything, she was not a pushover because she was nice to people. 'But,' she thought, 'I suppose you get meanies like him in every school. Sexist git, I bet, too'.  
  
"Professor Snape, the Headmaster kindly suggested to me that you would be able to show me to my bed chambers in the Eastern Dungeons." There was definitely more authority and conviction in her voice now, but he still raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Did he now?" he snarled at the stone floor with his back still turned to her. That old codger was starting to tick him off more than usual.  
  
"Very well." He growled, spun around on his heel and strode past her so quickly that he brushed against her shoulder, almost throwing her off balance.  
  
"Such an attitude problem." She murmured, following him at a distance. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice. Finally, after they had descended further into the dark corridors, he stopped abruptly at a large set of wooden doors.  
  
"The password to your bedchamber is currently 'Uraeus'- feel free to change it as you wish, the snake will tell you what to do." He instructed her blandly as his eyes flickered to the emblem of a thin silver cobra coiled around a sword welded into the centre of the doors. It was only in this enchanted candlelight that he decided to actually look at her properly for a moment. This woman, whose first name he had already forgotten, if he even heard it in the first place, was a mere inch or so shorter than him with unnaturally pale blue eyes that almost seemed to draw in all the light around them. There was also something eerie about her resolute stare. She didn't move at all. It was as if she had forgotten to breathe. Unnerved at her challenging poise, perhaps, he shot her a polite death glare and almost hissed into her ear as he walked past, leaving her all alone,  
  
"Good night. Sleep well."  
  
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	2. A Rough Night

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"How does he know what the password to my bed chamber is?" She voiced aloud to herself suspiciously, once she was inside. That tall but surly and dark man was already beginning to bother her. "What's his problem?" she sighed, arranging her clothes into cupboards and drawers.  
  
"Don't let him bother you dear, I'll sort him out later anyway." a malicious and sarcastic female voice drawled inside her head.  
  
"Oh you shut up and go away!"  
  
"But why? I want to come out and play." it laughed naughtily.  
  
"Not yet! It's not time. Leave me alone and let me think for two seconds." She insisted. "I had you murmuring in my ear all evening during that dinner about who you thought was sexy and what you reckoned was under their robes! C'mon I'm only here and already I can't look at some teachers in the eye beside because of what you've said about them!" Giving up, she flung off her shoes, wriggled her toes and flopped out on top of the bed.  
  
"Done yet?" asked a politely proper voice.  
  
Scowling furiously with a rouge hint in her cheeks, she snapped. "Alright. Alright! I'll feed you. But you had better not wake me up before 6:00 any morning this week, OK?!"  
  
"You know, you ought to be more careful, people will get suspicious with all this shouting."  
  
"So? The worst is they'll think is I'm crazy." She said carelessly.  
  
"And that's alright with you is it? The cold voice grew sterner. "You still ignore me and treat me as such an inconvenience. Listen, you're not the one having to sit there taking orders from a teacher of Hogwarts! It didn't used to be this way, you know."  
  
"Boohoo. I'm sure. Look I'm not going to sit here and let you reminisce all night." She answered mockingly.  
  
"Watch your tongue!" the voice growled threateningly. "Next time you try and shove me 'out-of-your-face', it might be more than salt you spill."  
  
"What's that meant to mean?" she asked suspiciously, but with a satisfied smile at having successfully annoyed her 'other'.  
  
"Well," the voice pondered thoughtfully "it seems that I get hungry when you get angry, like now."  
  
"I get the point." She threw a dirty look towards the door. "I'm fed up feeding you. When are you going to learn to hunt yourself? Oh yes, when you can be TRUSTED." The young woman emphasized the last sentence particularly.  
  
The voice that felt like a frosty gale on a baby's skin deepened savagely, and hissed into her ear with regal authority. "You will feed me now as I wish, Nebula Regina Zirconia. Remember who you are."  
  
"Grumpy tonight, aren't we?" The young woman conceded, exasperated. "I'm sorry but you're not making things any easier for me. Though you are right, grandmamma Vashti, as always."  
  
Reluctantly, she rolled up the sleeve of her left arm, exposing pure, untouched flesh. Then without looking, she ran a long, black fingernail from the base her palm to the joint in her arm. Clenching her fist, Nebula turned to watch as the strong, taut tendons sprung out at the wrist, followed slowly by thin, dark veins.  
  
"Take only enough to allow you to become visible tonight." The suddenly dark eyed young woman added with disgust. "I will know if you take more."  
  
An icy chill spread over her arm until it seemed almost numb. Glancing down, she felt at first two firm hands hot with anticipation hold her arm still and an invisible mouth press against her skin. Then, a sharp, yet sickeningly pleasurable pain shot from that place. Opening her eyes that held back tears of loathing, she saw two small slits appear in her flesh. Then slowly from the punctures began to leak thin, purple blood.  
  
It was the poison that kept her alive. But she no longer wanted to live. Almost every night of her life had involved this ritual. All because of a fatal mistake made a long time ago.  
  
Minutes seemed to pass like hours, cold and painful, until finally the darkness enveloped her mind. As always, though, in the last closing moments of consciousness, she saw the figure of a tall, slender woman, remarkably like herself except with pitch black hair and cruel vivid green eyes to rival her dress. This 'woman' was standing at the end of her bed, flexing her long fingers as if they were new. Cackling evilly, she gave the impression of a very bad boy, with a new and very powerful toy.  
  
********************  
  
"Doing a spot of drinking last night, were we? That was quick!" Professor Flitwick inquired, as the new teacher held her head in her hands over the breakfast table, moaning about a headache. "You should've told us, we'd have given you some company! But don't worry; we have our ways with dealing with hangovers civilly. I'm sure if you ask Professor Snape he will-"  
  
"No it's alright.I'll be OK thanks." Nebula didn't think she could handle another close encounter of the 'Snape' kind so soon. His breath didn't exactly have that 'hint of minty freshness' to it either when he was that close. Next time she might say something that well, wouldn't quite encourage good relations between them. Besides she doubted whether he could give her anything to help her predicament. Normally she would've taken a potion that she procured herself, containing healing and strengthening properties, but it also contained some very special ingredients that at times were hard to come by - vampire fangs over 1000 years old, or a drop of blood from an Animagus; werewolf claws; and most importantly, Diamantez. These things were understandably very hard to come by, and those few black-market peddlers that could get their hands on them, drove a very hard bargain. But they were crucial - they alone could stop the reversal of a curse that was put on her a long time ago. It was a good curse, though, if there was one, which was meant to give her life back socially and perhaps physically. Yet if only, it had worked properly..  
  
~  
  
Life before then was hell. Her thoughts were never secret, and her control over her own body was limited. Every moment she fought an inner battle with herself for control; a losing battle. Interaction with people was rarely an option. Who knows the chaos she might cause, knowingly or not? She was regarded as a schizophrenic - a lunatic even, but much more powerful. Inside her was something that spiritually inhabited her body. Ruling her. Using her for its own ends, eventually.  
  
No, she could not go back to those days. They were too long and painful. This creature, once human, kept Nebula barely alive, but immortal, at the price of living off her life force.  
  
She had never wanted it so, but when she was a child, naive and pure, this torment had been forced upon her by her very mother. Her loving, cherishing mother. Perhaps, she didn't want to corrupt her daughter but just had no choice, as she didn't used to have a choice, Nebula considered in a moment of mercy, long after the event. But it was too late now. What was done, was done. She just had to live with the consequences of other peoples' actions and greedy desires. She had been forced to live with her "grandmother" Vashti, inside her very soul. Commanding. Corrupting. Nebula despised her.  
  
Always moaning about how it was her power that made her descendant so strong, calling her a weakling and a disgrace. What real joy it was to have that wench purged from her soul! But that was all, purged. Nebula wanted her to burn in the consuming fires of Hell that some Muggles believed in. Yet she knew deep in her heart that this could never be. No one could submit Vashti to eternal torment, she thought amusedly. Her 'grandmother' (really her great-great-great something) was never one to brag too much about her abilities, she just let people know what she was really capable of; and if they didn't believe her, she would willingly give them a first hand demonstration. Her arrogance was probably her biggest weakness.  
  
~  
  
A large bell rang nearby on the wall, signalling the start of classes. It also aroused Nebula from her memories with a start. 'I need to get a pensieve' she concluded. The Great Hall that she was only beginning to grow accustomed to was emptying of students and teachers. Nebula rose having eaten little, and walked dreamily down the Hall then through passages and down staircases into the dungeons. She had a good memory and didn't need to be told twice which way it was to her classroom and chambers, luckily.  
  
"Vashti!" she whispered, when no one was around. "Vashti, come I will leave you in my chambers to occupy yourself during my classes. Don't worry I'll visit you once or twice a day." A cold voice replied in her ear irritably,  
  
"As I expected. Why have you told the snakes on the door to deny me entrance or otherwise?"  
  
"Because I can't have you wandering around the school causing havoc wherever you go - and don't give me that look, yes the one I know is on you face right now - I know what you're like." The woman replied, shutting her up. Walking up to her door and ushering the invisible being inside, she murmured to herself shaking her head, "That's one disadvantage of no longer being completely mentally connected to her, you can never be sure of what scheme she's planning next. Nor if she's even standing beside you for that matter, it could just be a cold breeze wafting by. Maybe I am crazy, standing here muttering to myself. Oh dear, I NEED the Diamantez!"  
  
And so she left, striding annoyed along the last corridor to her classroom in the dungeons, with the skirt of the same emerald-green dress that she had worn on her first day at Hogwarts billowing furiously behind her, rivalling even Professor Snape's glorious black satin cloak that rippled gently in the draft along that very same corridor, as the wearer listened intently to her every word. Then, calmly, a pale hand reached up from the darkness, twisted a nearby unlit candle hanging on the wall, and blended smoothly into the black shadows of the hidden passage behind.  
  
*********************  
  
Next: her first class!! And of course HP, RW and HG will be there to witness it. Some more sinister things are revealed too.Harry and Hermione discover things about Miss Zirconia that lead them further into her already murky past.and what is Diamantez? Why is it so hard to get hold of? And what is this potion it's so vital for?  
  
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	3. Her First Class

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When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class before lunch on Monday, the new teacher hadn't yet arrived. Where she was, nobody knew so the whole class just sat and messed about until she appeared as if out from thin air from the back of the room. Ron whispered to Harry that he wished the classroom hadn't been moved from upstairs; down in the dungeons reminded him too much of the painful potions class they had been to that morning, and also there were no windows letting in natural light, which spooked Ron because he could swear that he saw something move in those shadows in the corners.  
  
After a few surprised yells from the back of the class, people began to realize there was somebody else in the room, and quickly silenced themselves. New teachers were to be treated with caution - to underestimate a teacher's sense of discipline was a fatal mistake to make. The tall woman who was now draped in a long black cloak that looked a bit too long even for her, moved very slowly down the middle aisle too her desk, curiously watching her pupils without moving her head. Turning around and leaning against her desk, she decided to speak to break the mounting tension in the children's faces. But first she smiled a peaceful, well practiced smile.  
  
"Don't be frightened, I certainly don't intend to hurt anyone in their first lesson. My name is Miss Zirconia. I believe I'm here to teach you all protection for. blaa blaa blaa." Waving an arm carelessly to her side, the class gasped. "You know the story. Anyway, I feel that before you can learn how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts, you need to trust or a least respect your teacher and know that they are qualified. So I plan to break you all in with a class where you may ask whatever questions you wish, and perhaps I will show you a few tricks." At this everyone was stunned, but now curious at the devious smile on her face.  
  
Hermione was first with her hand up. "Have you ever had to defend yourself against the Dark Arts?"  
  
"Yes I have on numerous occasions. Is your name Hermione Granger?"  
  
"Uh.yes it is.how do you -?"  
  
"I am skilled at Occulmency and wandless magic. I also brew Potions occasionally on request, though I don't claim to be better than your Potions Master." Nebula stated carefully, as many students gaped or shot up their hands.  
  
"Hello Mister Longbottom. How's your family?" The woman walked over to his desk, crouched down to his level and asked him quietly, with the utmost sympathy in her voice. Harry was waiting nervously for the moment when she turned round to him and landed him with 'Oh my and here we have Mister Potter! Savior of the Universe!' But it never came. She wandered around the class conversing calmly with people, and a few suggested that she should be our new divinations teacher, leaving Parvati and Lavender looking mutinous. Miss Zirconia walked back to her desk, swept off her cloak then flung it over the comfortable, stuffed chair behind it.  
  
"Oh no, I can only read the pasts that you have all seen, but the future is far too complicated to comprehend. True Divination is almost impossible."  
  
When questioned about wandless magic, she said little on the matter.  
  
"It is very hard. It takes a lot of time and concentration to become fluent at it because it involves the magical powers within us, not the immense supply within our wands. This power is something that everyone sitting here has, but not all can use it. Only certain minded people can release it from within to say, move objects," with a flick of her finger, Neville's book flipped over on his desk. "Interact with people's minds," Suddenly Dean's now red face buried itself in his arms, while the teacher stared at him amusedly as if they had just shared a joke that only they would understand. "Cause spontaneous combustion," Two large burners at either side of the teacher's desk exploded into flame, setting some of Ron's parchment on fire in front of her desk, "whoops! I always get carried away with that one..and well, much, much more."  
  
"Wow! She's so." Harry breathed in awe, but she heard him.  
  
"Cool, isn't it?" Smiling sweetly, she winked at him as if she knew something he didn't. This unnerved him. Was this a set up? Nope, he didn't think so. "You are Harry Potter. The teachers were talking about you to me - don't worry, it was all good. They say you're quite a feature in this school, and that this is your best subject."  
  
Nodding curiously, he wondered why she didn't mention anything about Lord Voldemort. It was as if she didn't know anything about it. "It is, Miss. Excuse me, but should we not be calling you Professor?"  
  
"Oh well, probably but I'm not fussy. I don't really think it sounds right. 'Professor Zirconia'.well whatever you want I don't mind, as long as it isn't anything horrible!" Giggling slightly she swanned around her desk, made her cloak float over to a hook on the wall, and sat composedly in her chair until Hermione shot up her hand again.  
  
"Professor, have...no offence meant or anything.but have you taught before?"  
  
Half the class glared at her ashamedly whilst the rest waited for the response, not knowing what to expect if she was angered. After a long and calculated pause, staring slightly suspiciously at Hermione, pondering her perfectly innocent question, she replied quietly but firmly, so that the walls couldn't even hear,  
  
"Yes. I taught.I taught at Durmstrang for 10 years." Not taking her eyes off the young girl sitting beside Ron, she continued smoothly, as if to say 'this matter is closed for discussion.' "Well I think you had all better do some work today. My list of topics that you are to cover for this year is long, and your first one is Weedles, but I doubt that should take long, so I've decided to do a bit of revision of hexes with you. If everyone would pair up please, we shall begin."  
  
Harry had a feeling that this year would be rather strange, having its normal ups and downs of course, but also that this teacher would play a bigger part in their lives than she should. She was weird, creepy too. Why did she seem to buckle up when asked about her past? And why did she seem reluctant to voice 'Durmstrang'? There was a lot to be discovered about her. Perhaps a little investigation with the Invisibility Cloak sometime wouldn't be amiss.  
  
*********************  
  
"She can't have been at Durmstrang for 10 years, think about it. I mean she only looks about 26 or 27, and she's by far the youngest Hogwarts teacher. That would mean she was about 17 when she began teaching there.no way, it must be lies." Hermione said suspiciously.  
  
"Or else.Flip! She must be really good."Ron added with awe.  
  
"I doubt even she's that good, Ron. Unless.unless.no." She started but let the thought trail off as she couldn't see a good enough reason why. But now she'd got them all interested, she had to continue.  
  
"Well she did mention that she made potions, didn't she? Well unless she.I don't know, made herself a 'youthening' potion or something.but I think it's very unlikely."  
  
After their last class on Friday, and before dinner, Harry, Ron and Hermione congregated in the library to discuss matters of great importance - who really is their new D.A.D.A. teacher? Harry had thrown in his suggestion of poking around her classroom at night in the Invisibility Cloak, but Hermione insisted that she would only agree to that if it was their last option. But she hadn't yet opened her letter from her beloved pen pal, Viktor Krum, though. That was going to change things.  
  
All tucked away out of sight from everyone else behind two bookcases, they sat scheming, until Hermione remembered her letter and opened it, expecting nothing of relevance, except perhaps some information of Ms Zirconia's past teaching there. What she read, she had to read again then pass it to Ron to clarify.  
  
"He must be joking, that can't be right! C'mon she's not.no way! Here Harry, you take a look. What d'you think?" Ron had as much trouble handling the information has Hermione first had, but she recovered much quicker.  
  
Harry scanned the lines for the relevant information, reading past all the other garbage Krum was spewing out to her, trying to win back her heart. Whatever. He saw nothing until he came to near the end, then a sentence caught his eye,  
  
'Yes, Miss Zirconia was a teacher at this school, but she couldn't be teaching at Hogwarts now as you say! She taught here for ten years, yes, but that was 113 years ago! And then she taught the Dark Arts, not the Defense.'  
  
"That is weird. Maybe he forgot and put too many 1's on? Ok ok, look only I'm trying to think of all the possibilities here." This was definitely not good news. Hermione's earlier suspicions had been almost confirmed - she was a lot older than she looked. The only other possibility was that she was a vampire, but she didn't show enough of the signs. Yes, she was very seductive; had a good set of teeth; creepy, stone cold eyes that seemed to draw in all the light around them when she was annoyed, as Hermione noticed on Monday; hasn't yet set foot in direct sunlight, has the ability to appear out of nowhere.alright well, at least she hadn't shown any signs of bloodlust yet.yet. And of course Dumbledore wouldn't subject them to an unnecessary threat of harm, would he?  
  
So after Ron had convinced them all she was a vampire anyway, they began to plan what to do about it. Harry was now even more enthusiastic about the Invisibility Cloak idea; he was desperate for another small adventure in his dad's old cloak. But then he remembered that many of his last little adventures in the cloak had ended in grave danger to his, or his friend's lives. But this time will be different of course.  
  
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	4. The Plumsappe Potion

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A tall, elegant woman stood at the top of the Astronomy tower, gazing up at the constellation of Orion, draped in a long, black velvet cloak that reflected no moon or star light. In one hand she held out a small half-full phial of ice-blue liquid, matching her eyes, upon which a scarlet flame flickered ghostlike. In her other hand, hovered a very small stone, a crystal-clear jewel that sparkled in the light of the full, but unnaturally red moon. The woman waited silently for the darkest hour with patience and stillness that can be acquired only by time itself. As it approached, a stiff North wind swept up the grounds, almost trying to force her off the tower, as if what she was about to do, was against nature itself. Nothing, however, could stop her now. She stood firm and resolute as the cutting wind almost tore the cloak from her, causing it to whip up and sting her face. But instead of chilling her blood, it caused her heart to beat faster in anticipation. The time was near. It wouldn't be long now until she is restored to full health, and all its vicious power.  
  
Swiftly, the bright moon crept across the midnight black sky, surrounded by its twinkling companions, until it appeared to be directly above the tower. Then carefully the woman, whose white, sunken complexion was the only sign of hunger, rose upon wall, still gazing trance-like at the red moon. Poised there unwaveringly, she began to wonder if the red moonlight would have a different effect on the small stone in her palm. But her fears were soon dashed when she held up her right hand to the sky and uttered seven words in a long dead language, "Let the blood of Life come forth."  
  
As she turned to watch the colourless jewel intently, a lilac puff burst from within and spread to fill the whole crystal, as if it was hollow. Then suddenly the pale lilac puff turned into a thick, deep purple substance, desperate to burst forth. A satisfied smile flashed across her face as she made the crystal hover over to the scarlet flame flickering silently on top of the phial. After a minute in the flame, the jewel lost its sparkle and began to vibrate furiously, as if fighting desperately to hold its trapped contents. But it was not to be. With a moment to spare the woman plucked the stone from the flame and held it firmly in her fingertips. As she watched, her eyes gleaming, the small stone began to leak the deep purple fluid like someone had pierced it with a sharp needle.  
  
The ritual was almost complete; with one more swift movement the once beautiful stone was dropped through the flame into the pale liquid upon which it burned. Carefully she swilled the phial thrice while the deep purple diffused throughout it. Then, with a grin arrayed with sharp, ivory white teeth, the woman licked her fingers of some spilt purple blood from the crystal, tilted back her head, and drained the small phial.  
  
Feeling a thin trickle slide down the edge of her lips towards her chin, she attempted to wipe if clean, but she was suddenly powerless to move. With the North Wind still blowing wrathfully, her cloak was swept from her into the night, but she didn't care. All the woman was aware of, was the blazing heat that began to consume her from within. She knew that no ordinary human could survive this, and that for them to gain life from the blood of a Diamantez crystal, Plumsappe, for core strength, they would have to devour the heart of the primary consumer. But fortunately for her, her circumstances were different. As she teetered on the brink of balance, her eyes shot wide open. They were trying to see, but unable to. She was beginning to fight the inner Death. Flashes of evil swarmed her mind. Flashes of her memories. Blood- curdling screams resounded in her head and the faces of the innocent lingered unfaded in front of her. These were her memories, yes, but not her actions. For all her connections with the Dark Side, she had never let herself become one of them in her heart. She would never sink that low. That's why she was taking the potion. So she could live on to fight this evil that was once part of her. To destroy it. "Hypocrite" her conscience whispered. Yes, she supposed she was. But desperate times called for desperate measures, she reasoned. She needed the Diamantez tonight, and if a few relatively worthless lives had to be ruined in the process, well, that was a small price to pay for what would happen if she didn't get it. Dying in her case was only the first step.  
  
A dreadful pain filled her heart, like the purging of venom from a closed wound. Her eyes stung, bloodshot red and watering. Her irises were different now, a change had taken place. They were rich violet and dilated. There was an unearthly glow radiating from her now fuller face. Then she felt it. The lengthening of her canines. The pain had now spread to her head, and was now so intense; she couldn't feel the tears flowing down her cheek. The tears of human blood. The phial fell from her hand and smashed on the stones, far, far below. No longer paralyzed, her body bent over into a fetal ball, tears flowing faster now. Then the moment she had been waiting for - a smooth, shiny liquid dripped from her fangs like mercury. At last, the worst was over. The fangs receded; but her eyes did not return to normal. There was more to come. Suddenly everything stopped around her. Time paused itself. The moon no longer shone. Even the mighty gale had ceased. All that remained in her was a growing euphoric feeling of being reborn.  
  
Slowly the body of the young woman began to rise off the wall. Hovering silently, the inner screams had gone. The turmoil within had disappeared. Even gravity seemed to have no effect on her. Her mind had detached itself from her soul, so that when her eyes opened and she gazed down at the grounds 250 ft below her, she felt nothing. No fear. No adrenaline. Just bliss. Yet complete inner peace is something so rare, so fragile, that it cannot last for more than an instant, without being snatched away into the eternal darkness.  
  
It was gone. The cold air chilled her spine and battered against her face. Her hands were blue. Her breath turned into a mist and disappeared immediately. Unless she got back into the castle soon, her body wouldn't last the night. It had been through the physical boundaries of Life and Death, Past and Future, and her strong heart still beat. But only just. Her mind had been through more, however, than even that. Thinking was agonizing. Her sight began to dull, her eyelids fell. Her mind went numb. Then the Darkness took her.  
  
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	5. Knockturn Alley

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Nebula's mind swirled through the night as if traveling by Floo powder. Except when she stopped, she found herself standing in another time as well as another place. It was 7 o'clock that evening, long before she had taken the potion. It was strange, though; she was watching herself from above, disconnected from the situation and Vashti was completely visible to her. She was well aware of what had happened that evening so why had she gone back in time to revisit it? Had she missed something? Was there something of major importance for her to see? Of course the last time this had happened, it had been too late for her to do anything about it, but at least she had been warned as to the dangers to come in some way if she watched closely enough.  
  
Although nightfall was drawing nearer and many shops were closing, Miss Zirconia seemed not to care. Moving gracefully through Diagon Alley and the last of its wanderers, huddled in groups, she knew exactly where she was headed. As she reached the end of the Alley, suddenly the woman swerved left and strode purposefully into a darker, narrower and filthier alleyway with a rotting wooden sign nailed to a wall - Knockturn Alley.  
  
~***Flashback***~A Long Time Ago  
  
The first time she had walked around Knockturn alley many years ago, a disturbed hag and her cronies had ganged up and cornered her against a wall and made it quite clear what they intended to do her - it generally involved plucking out her beautiful eyes and boiling them in unicorn blood. something about pickling her brain, and of course, stealing her money pouch.  
  
It was one of those times when she was rather thankful of having Vashti around. She may have chosen not to help her, but she said afterwards that she wasn't so sure if they were joking around this time..One of the cronies had snatched her wand from inside the cloak, leaving her defenseless, or so they thought. Nebula let no sign of fear cross her face, however. To do so would encourage them further. She threatened the witches using big words that she knew would confuse them, then 'summoned' her 'powerful goddess' Vashti for whom she was the 'high priestess' and who would seek vengeance if harm came to her. Of course they ignored her and were on the point of all cursing her at once when Vashti decided to make her move.  
  
Swiftly, but silently, she summoned all of their wands to her, made them hover just out of their reach, then let them burst into flame before their dim sighted eyes. Nebula watched fearfully as they turned to her, full of rage, ready to claw her to death. Then, Vashti connected with their minds, and spoke. They all felt it. It was as if a freezing North wind swept through their cloaks to their hearts and chilled them to the bone. All the women stood there unmoving, petrified. Except one, the Ringleader, Rapina. She was as her name suggested - ravenous and spiteful. Nebula knew her well. She had once been a striking woman, but that was before she became obsessed with the Dark Arts. It was believed that her and her 'friends' were robbed of all that was desirable in them, when they delved too deep into Black Magic. Vashti, queen of Darkness, rivaled only by her former husband, had not yet spoken to her mind. No, she had much more terrible things planned for Rapina.  
  
Nebula did not understand the language, in which her grandmother had spoken to them, but she had heard it too, and it had never had that effect on her. She supposed the words must have had some very special meaning to them or something. Anyway, she sensed Vashti glide over towards her victim. The hag stared fixedly, as if seeing something very strange for the first time, at a point in mid-air. Vashti placed her invisible but firm hands on the hag's skinny shoulders. Then, slowly, she let her vibrant emerald and obsidian eyes penetrate those of her victim.  
  
Nebula knew exactly what was happening as the poor woman's face contorted in fear and fury and pain. She was being made to relive the worst moments of her life, and all the unpleasant emotions with it, which for her must have been really scary, until she cracked. Then, perhaps, she would have to look upon the face of pure evil, and all its glory. Not a nice experience. Both techniques left the victim feeling like they've just narrowly escaped a Dementor. Then, at last, Vashti strikes.  
  
Using her long, beautiful, razor-sharp nails, she sliced open the large vein in the woman's shriveled neck. Soon, blood sputtered everywhere uncontrollably, drenching her faded black cloak. But the stupid woman didn't move. Death was what she was driven to pray for by Vashti, to believe that's all she is worthy of. Nebula anguished at the hag's torture - no creature deserves such an end. But it was too late to help her now. There was bloodlust in Vashti's luminescent aura, such that even she had never seen before. She was starving. Vashti craved what she needed most, what Nebula had provided for her until a month ago, when she was exorcised from the relatively young woman's body. The vile creature needed Life, and she would take it by any means. To stop her now would be fatal. And impossible. She placed her mouth to Rapina's throat and drained her dry of what blood was left in her. All that could be seen, however, was her poor body deflating, her eyes popping with terror, and her carcass finally crumpling onto the cold, hard stone pavement.  
  
Vashti cackled loudly and voraciously. She had enjoyed murdering the worthless, nasty hag pitilessly. Punishing those who did not deserve to be judged by her, was what she did best. Then, she turned her attention to the others whose bodies only had been paralyzed at her words - their terrified minds had been sharp and alert, however, and saw everything that happened. They now suspected what fiend they faced, but didn't dare think it true.surely such an old and powerful force no longer existed? But Vashti was keen to remind them who the real mistress of Evil really was.they put their faith in a fore-telling orb - that was pathetic.she intended to show them what the real future held. And if everything went according to plan, which it will, her and her darling husband, the only person who she would willingly admit to be weaker than, would one day feature in it supremely.  
  
One at a time, she cut a witch's cross deep into each of their foreheads with her nail then commanded Nebula to speak the next part of the incantation for her. At first she resisted fiercely, but after powerful persuasion (at that time she wasn't quite as good at defying the being's influence) Nebula uttered the 9 words of her grandmother's very own, special curse: 'Si vis me fleke, dolendum est primum ipsi tibi.' A malicious smile crept into Vashti's face in anticipation of what she was about to do. She knew she could inflict more pain than any 'crucio' curse, and well, it had been a while. One at a time, Vashti, the true Queen of Darkness, gently kissed their foreheads - it was the Kiss of Death.  
  
As she kissed them, Nebula's usually scarlet and onyx necklace began to radiate emerald-green light. This meant that Vashti was summoning power from her for this curse. She bit down on her lip; she knew what was to come. 'Not again, I hoped these days were over!' a voice inside her head screamed. But as always, there was nothing she could do. She had, after all, sealed the incantation and now all she could do, was watch. Vashti placed a condemning finger on her next victim's forehead. From the second she touched their flesh, Nebula could feel all her malice flow freely into the chosen woman's weak mind. No mortal could survive such an onslaught. If her body could move, she would be rolling in spasms of torture, her mouth open to scream but no sound would come out, as the rest of her body tried to absorb some of the turmoil in her mind, but no. Vashti wanted it this way - she controlled the full force of her blast into the woman's mind. All that moved, was the woman's eyes.  
  
Nebula couldn't watch any more, instead she looked away and tried to look heartless, stern and unforgiving. She supposed she succeeded, somehow. Then, as she looked down the necklace suddenly ignited; at the start the flames were an emerald green colour signifying that Vashti had broken her - she now belonged to Vashti, but if she remained 'alive', her existence would be that of a zombie, having no control over her own body but following every whim of her mistress; then the flame burned blood red - this meant Destruction. Vashti had no want of her, so her crushed spirit that was trapped in the necklace, incinerated in her fury. Her grandmother had instructed her proudly in every detail of 'this fine curse that only the purest and strongest of bloods can command'.  
  
Eventually she turned to the semicircle of corpses around her. From the eyes in each witch's face, coursed a stream of blood. These were the last tears they would ever shed. In a post mortem, she was sure the investigators would find their brains had been mutilated, literally fried. Nebula pulled the hood of the black velvet cloak quickly over her face, to cover the clear droplets of water that formed in her eyes. Then, without a word to Vashti, the angst young woman dashed out of Knockturn Alley, clutching in her hand the one thing that gave her hope to not kill herself that night. It was a small stone, a crystal-clear jewel that sparkled in the light. It was an almost priceless Diamantez crystal.  
  
A crowd had gathered meanwhile, observing the situation carefully. Down in that dark place where no one cared for another, to see a much hated hag and her cronies die bloodily at the hands of another, made their day complete. They would talk about it for years to come, twisting the truth (somehow) into a more gruesome tale to challenge the most graphic horror stories. But of all the rumours, they would spread the legend of the young, beautiful lady who strode casually into Knockturn Alley one evening and wandlessly slaughtered the entire 'Harem of the Orb' - the wickedest witches in the Alley. Soon all would know her as the 'Queen of Darkness', but since it was such a long title, people would usually address her as 'Eveilia' (Mother of Evil) or 'Blaze lady' (due to her fiery performance with the wands) to her face.  
  
~**Back to This Evening**~  
  
And so, with that dazzling reputation, here Miss Nebula Zirconia was at 7 o'clock on a Thursday evening, many years later with still only one purpose in her mind. Walking serenely through the same spot where Vashti had murdered those people, she felt every soul focused intently on her. Most were probably hoping for another performance. Many of the younger, bolder generation who had been told the tale were intrigued and quite curious as to how she still looked about 27 after so long. There were also those who paid no heed to any tale and either showed her respect for who she was or made fun of her, at their cost. She wasn't out to kill anyone again, but no one was going to walk all over her.  
  
Suddenly one little boy ran up to her, tugged the hem of her cloak, and called her some very nasty things. But she reckoned he couldn't even spell those words at his age, so someone else must have bribed him or was controlling him. Sure enough, she could sense another power about him. 'They must be nearby by the intensity of it,' she thought 'I hope the effects aren't permanent.poor child'. Casting a few furtive glances from under her hood, Nebula saw whom she suspected: a very old but still-at-it crone with one eye and a black orb on her lap, currently trying to look innocent. 'I'll have her this time.' The hag had been there on that fateful day for her friends, but did not take part. Apparently the orb had foretold great evil that day. Funny, it didn't warn her that to 'wind up' Nebula again would bring her into mortal peril, did it?  
  
The tall young woman passed a long and pale hand over the dreamy-eyed boy's face, breathing in deeply at the same time she uttered 'protego imperium' then 'protego crucio' until the boy became glassy-eyed. Then she placed in the boy's hand 3 golden coins, told him to leave this alley, go into Diagon and buy food and clothes for himself. "Go now." He did not refuse, and she watched him sprint along a passage leading to a brighter place. She would watch over him, protect him magically. There were many evil people here that would do anything for money, food or even the clothes off a child's back. The kid had been abused long enough.  
  
Without a word, but seething with annoyance, Nebula elevated herself slightly off the ground and glided over to the hag until her shadow in the twilight consumed her. Once again, no wand would be used. A wand in a situation such as this would only hamper her. The old crone, however, struggled to stand on two feet, but easily whipped out her short and stumpy wand and aimed it straight at Nebula's heart. Nebula had sensed what was about happen. Concentrating all her energy at the witch's wand she tried to snap it in half. But it wasn't working - another force was with her.each time she attacked it; an invisible hand slapped her hard in the face. 'No! What is this?!' Her mind shouted, but no answer came. She knew her magic couldn't defend her against this Unforgivable curse.  
  
All she could do was stand and wait, with her back hard against the wall, for the end. She couldn't go this way! Not after everything she'd been through! There must be some way, she thought. But her mind was blank. A fine film of sweat began to coat her face. Her lips trembled. Vashti had gone wandering around other shops in the Alley. She could not help her now.  
  
As the hag croaked "Avada Ked-" delightfully, Nebula closed her eyes. Suddenly from the depths of her mind a voice laced with hope and mirth spoke to her. It was a voice from long ago. So long, that she almost didn't recognize it.  
  
"Mother!" Nebula's eyes filled with tears of fear and joy as they shot open and stared pointlessly at a point in the wall behind the hag. She didn't realize how much she actually missed her; it was like a ray of light shining in the darkness. Perhaps, death wouldn't be so bad if she could see her again, Nebula reasoned. But the voice had other things to say.  
  
'Nebula, my darling daughter, whom I love so dearly, listen to me now. You must NOT die; you must live, for all our sakes. And although you lose hope now, fear not, I have not left you unprotected. Stand still and look at her unblinkingly in the eye, now. That's it. Let her curse you. Trust me! Then, when it is over, walk over to the bundle behind her and take the orb. This is vital. I must go now; I can help you no more for the moment. Perhaps they will let me speak with you again." The sweet echo of her voice began to fade in her ears.  
  
"They? Mother no! Don't leave me! I need you! I'm no longer strong enough to carry this burden! I want to die!" Tears streamed down Nebula's soft cheeks. This was her moment of weakness, she knew. Crying was not something that she did.  
  
"Good-bye, my sweet child! Don't give up! You mustn't! Be strong as I know you are. May my love watch over you and guide you in your many paths to come." Her mother's voice was gone. She was alone once again in that dark and filthy alley. But she must listen to her mother's words now, to wallow in self pity at a time like this, was most unwise.  
  
The stupid witch meanwhile had stopped mid-curse, and actually turned around to see if there was anyone behind her. But when all she saw was a brick wall she covered up her confusion and slight fear of invisible people with an expression of triumph, and mocked her. "I can help you with that, dear." The hag did not hear the voice to whom Nebula was speaking. "I knew you were a fake. Your mother can't help you now. harlot Muggle-lover!"  
  
Nebula snapped out of the trance, straightened up, took a step towards her, and lowered her hood, revealing a tear-marked face with bloodshot eyes; though a nicely carved woman none-the-less. But soon her eyes would glisten ominously in the twilight with unspeakable wrath and malevolence.  
  
"Going to say your prayers again? I think not. I know who you are. I have seen it. I know the evil that tracks your footsteps. Your time has come, Nebula Regina Zirconia from the House of Slyth-"  
  
"SHUT your filthy mouth, Pythia! How dare you address me, you putrid stench from the scum of a cauldron! Threatening me with a wand! You should be on your knees, begging for mercy like you've never done before; as your idiot companions once tried to but couldn't. Remember how Rapina screamed? Yes, I see you do. You hear it every night as you wait for sleep. It was awful.but even you can't imagine the agony that she suffered because of me.ha-ha.and then, the eternal Destruction! You will never meet her again! It's as if she never even existed! Your best friend, who completely ignored you the day you needed her to listen most! Ha! But don't fret, perhaps soon you too will follow in her footsteps.hag." Nebula seethed maliciously, seeking to provoke her. "You.you! AVADA KEDAVRA!!!" she shrieked furiously. A blast of liquid green light shot out from Pythia's shaking wand and struck Nebula squarely in the heart.  
  
The vast crowd of onlookers gasped in horror. The old crone had most certainly killed the 'Queen of Darkness'. The young woman's body flew backwards and struck the stone wall hard, and lay crumpled in a heap of black velvet.  
  
"Eveilia's dead!" Some yelled, but no one dared touch her. Many just watched on disbelievingly. "It was too easy" some whispered. Only Pythia moved. Hobbling, she went over and hit the corpse hard in the ribs. Then, as she was about to turn away, a firm but pale hand shot out from the robes and latched onto her bony ankle. With a screech of fright, the hag was brought down, her ankle twisted and broken. As she screamed for help from the crowd, no one even blinked. Why should they help her? Slowly, Nebula stood up, the hood still covering her main features, and dragged the hag closer until she could stand over her. Then she turned the vicious woman over, pinned her arms flat and sat on her.  
  
"Going somewhere, my dear.slave?" There was more than a hint of amusement in Nebula's cold and hollow voice. She smiled as she watched terror dawn on the old woman's face and then began to laugh mirthlessly. The sound of sweet yet bitter vengeance cut tonelessly through the air. There was no other sound to be heard, even from Diagon Alley. The air was cold and still. Her voice, too, was unnatural - it didn't sound like her at all. It sounded more like Lord Voldemort.  
  
Swiftly she unclasped her cloak and allowed the once scarlet and black stoned necklace to fall and dangle over Pythia's wrinkled and contorted face. Except now, the stone emitted bright emerald green rays. Nebula leaned closer to the hag's face and quietly posed her a question.  
  
"So, what will it be? Death by your own curse, or Destruction? Or better still, do you wish to duel me fairly this time? Well no one can say I have no sense of pity - how many captors offer their victims a choice of how they want to die? Of course I could always refuse anyway.I suppose I've had enough 'input' from you."  
  
The horrid old witch began to plead with her. She gave her a thousand reasons why she did it. She begged. And that was what Nebula warned her that she would make Pythia do, if she attacked her. There was only one thing for it. She had to go. Painfully. "No! That's the Vashti coming out in you! Have mercy!" Pythia whimpered. At that, Nebula felt a cold breeze waft by her side, then an even colder voice in her ear.  
  
"I leave you alone for 10 minutes and look what you get up to.Ah it's little old Pythia!...very good.I've been itching to put her away for years. Come quickly my dear, I found who we were searching for. I left him waiting rather impatiently inside 'Proserpine's Poisons & Potions' shop. Follow me soon. I'll return and keep an eye."  
  
Pythia heard the voice too and immediately began to writhe and scream vague things to all who could hear. Nebula got fed up sitting on top of the smelly old rotter so she let go of her, raised her right arm, and punched her, breaking her mangled nose and knocking her unconscious. Then as the crowd stared on curiously, she whipped out her long ebony wand which contained the venom of a Basilisk and the feather of a Phoenix. (Once a long time ago, when she was still at school in fact, she had been messing around in the potions store, and spilt a jar full of cloudy white paste on the floor. Then as she was about to clean it up, the ebony wand slipped from her hand and fell into it. When she later returned with her friend's wand, however, she found hers lying exactly where it was before, but the paste-like stuff was gone. Her wand had absorbed all of it. Nasty. It was only a long time afterwards that she found out it had been concentrated Basilisk venom.) Nebula aimed her long, dark wand at Pythia's chest, closed her eyes, and mumbled, "I return your gift" in Parseltongue.  
  
The green light from the necklace dispersed, and re-emerged immediately from the tip of her wand. The light poured like mercury onto the woman's chest and spread like veins around her body, then disappeared. Suddenly, the woman's eyes opened and her lips parted, leaking saliva. She was dead. She had absorbed the curse. She had paid the price.  
  
Nebula rose gracefully, kicked the corpse in the ribs then strode off in the direction of 'Proserpine's Poisons & Potions' shop. The terrified crowd eagerly parted as the black cloaked and icy-eyed woman passed, leaving behind her another great legend for gossipers. She supposed she would be in the Headlines of the 'Daily Prophet' for the next couple of days, but at least they wouldn't have a description of her - she would make sure of that.   
  
***Oh no! The orb!! I forgot! How could I? Mother said it was VITAL! It could be any where by now...I have to go back...I won't exactly get a hero's welcome...but i have to...oh no...*** Nebula looked on from the future and realized why she had gone back - she had forgotten to take the old woman's orb. She couldn't see what was so special about it then, but she knew that if her dead mother had told her to remember it, it must be significant somehow. Even at that, however, Nebula had no idea how valuable it would prove to be in the End to come...  
  
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	6. Diamantez

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Nebula watched herself slink through more passageways unnoticed; she had cast a concealing spell on herself so that if she was seen, she wouldn't be noticed. Also her beautiful black velvet cloak served another purpose here - it allowed her to melt smoothly into the many shadows of the night. But as she watched, another tall, dark creature had pulled away from the crowd of spectators and seemed to be stalking her, lagging behind in passages, and then sprinting to catch up again. What a suspicious manner, she thought. Why did he not desire to be seen?  
  
The young woman finally reached her destination. After a quick glance along the street, she strode over to the door. Then she sensed someone behind her. They had been following her. "What do you want?" Nebula snapped harshly placing her hand on the brass handle, without turning round. The footsteps stopped.  
  
"Only to congratulate you." A man's voice drawled in reply. He moved over and stood arrogantly to her right, also draped in black. But the pale and pointed visage was one she vaguely recognized.  
  
"Why, Lucius, what brings you here at this time of night?" she replied sarcastically, yet politely. He ignored the question and continued, lifting his face from the shadow of his hood.  
  
"That was quite something back there. However, it was obvious you weren't dead. When someone is struck with that curse, their body goes rigid and falls straight down, they don't crumple into a heap." He informed her slowly.  
  
"You've a keen eye. Know a bit about it then, do you?" She inquired mockingly. Lucius remained undeterred, but less patronizing now. His silvery eyes were having a hard time focusing on her face to read her emotions because of the concealment spell. It was rather annoying feeling this blind, so he removed it without permission. As he looked at her, he was fleetingly reminded of Narcissa, but this woman had higher cheekbones and fuller lips; generally a more voluptuous profile. Her eyes were similarly dark but even sharper. They seemed irritated at being stared at.  
  
"I believe you are my son's Defense against the Dark Arts teacher, Miss Zirconia? I see he is in safe hands."  
  
"Draco, you will be pleased to hear, pays more attention to the Dark Arts than the Defense from them."  
  
"Well both are necessary, I warn him, but he has particular ambitions." Mr. Malfoy pointed out.  
  
"I noticed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have places to be and people to see, as I'm sure you understand." Nebula was uninterested in anything to do with Hogwarts at that moment; the last thing she needed was a parent-teacher discussion in the middle of Knockturn Alley. She had more important things to deal with, which lay mainly on the other side of that door.  
  
"Certainly. However, I desired to speak with you about something that has aroused our curiosity." Lucius' eyes glittered as he spoke. He calmly reached for her necklace which still dangled over her chest. Nebula's eyes lit as she followed his gaze. Her cold hand shot out from under the cloak and fastened around his wrist. Their eyes clashed. She moved menacingly closer to him, until their breath mists mingled.  
  
"Ah-ah, look but don't touch." Fury flared in her ice cold eyes. Her grip was firm and the nails dug in sharply. Her voice was very low and steady, hissing with menace. The sight struck him as horribly familiar, but from someone else. He couldn't quite place it. Then as her gaze lingered on him a moment longer, she added "Unless you wish end up in there for an eternity." Then mentally she continued with a mischievous smile, 'while I use your body as my slave to do my wishes.'  
  
"Fine. Have it your way. But we will meet again and when we do, the circumstances will be rather, different. Good night. Sleep well." Lucius seethed slowly and then he pushed her away and quickly disapparated. As he left, she was suddenly reminded of her first night at Hogwarts, when Severus Snape had wished her the exact same before he left. 'Strange, I wonder if they know each other. Lucius has some strange connections.' And with that she shrugged her shoulders and turned the handle.  
  
As the door opened, a strong musty stench and shelves coated with black dirt greeted her. The room was of average size and contained many shelves laden with mysterious jars and cages, lit only by a few candles arranged by the counter. As Nebula passed along an aisle, something caught her eye in a cage. It was 2 sleeping tarantulae. Their markings were noteworthy: smooth black with white feet, one had thin dark blue stripes that ran its length with a small forest green squiggle on its head; the other had violet rings and a magenta spot on its head. She had never known them to exist as pets before. It was unnatural. They were very wild normally and were also rumoured to be near extinction.  
  
"Can I help you, ma'am?" To Nebula's right hovered a stooped middle-aged witch with foggy unseeing eyes and rotten teeth. But so far she was polite and showed respect. It was the simple things in life that mattered most to Neb.  
  
"I am interested in these creatures. What can you tell me about them?"  
  
"Ah vell, they are quite a pair." The woman's soft voice brightened. She sounded very foreign, but spoke legible English. "Very carnivorous and vicious. It seems everyone who purchases them from me, returns in a veek looking very pale and missing a limb! If they return at all." Her thin lips spread a delighted and almost proud grin across her face. "Unfortunately, they are to be taken to a private collection in a few days. I wonder when I will see them again." The witch did not seem at all sad. Nebula smiled back. She realized why they kept returning to her. The cruelty in it was rather amusing.  
  
"Yes, that is a pity." Her eyes twinkled in the faint candlelight. The small witch gazed back expectantly. Not tonight, she decided. Turning to face her completely she said "I am here on private business to speak with Sardis Moraius. Where is he?" Proserpine blinked, she hadn't expected that question, but held up a bony finger to a dark entrance behind the counter.  
  
"He is strange tonight, mutters unusual things, votch him - he may try somesing unexpected tonight. Any bargain he gives you vill be. most treacherous. That is vot I know." The older witch whispered words of warning to the younger one, who had already made her way over to the stairway. Nebula had had enough of fortunetellers for the rest of her life. She merely nodded at the wise advice and ascended the stairs undaunted.  
  
At the top there was a large empty room with a creaky wooden floor and solid beams along the room. There were no windows. The only light came from a black candle in the middle of the floor. Over it squatted a shabby looking man who clutched himself warily. There was a fresh gash on his already haggard face. Vashti was playing again. She remained in the shadows, unnoticed, watching for a while longer.  
  
"Sardis, have you something for me this evening?" Nebula's voice broke the whimpers. It was deceivingly trusting. The man rose quickly scanning the room searching for an intruder, but his vision was weak - he could see no further than the end of his nose in this darkness.  
  
"Miss Zirconia," Sardis pleaded. "Miss Zirconia I, I have not been able to attain what you want. Please, have mercy! It, it was unavailable -"  
  
"HE LIES!" Another bitter voice cut over him; a tall, emerald-green eyed woman materialized from the shadows. "I was just beginning to wheedle the truth from him when you arrived. By the way, it took you long enough. I have ascertained that he has in his possession at this moment, exactly what we want."  
  
"Vashti, you have fed from him without my permission." Nebula's eyes burned darkly in the realization of why he had a gash, and why she was visible. Her voice was now unrestrained. "You intended to use DARK Magic to get this information! How could you! This was completely unnecessary!" She was furious. Vashti didn't care, as usual.  
  
"My methods are faster and more effective. So what if he lives a cursed life? He's a Black-market peddler, the lowest of the low, almost. He denies us what we want! He has no right to do so. Punishment is in order."  
  
Nebula swiftly moved out of the shadows to the man. Suddenly she was pushed back by an invisible force. Looking down, she had almost entered into the Dark Ring, a ring of the victim's blood bound by incantations around Mr. Moraius and the candle.  
  
"You could've at least just 'crucio-ed' him! But THIS! Binding his. Vashti why do you always have to use ancient magic and primeval rites?! You always end up killing vital people!"  
  
"Because modern charms just don't have what it takes to satisfy me. I like to get more involved in torture sessions. Primitive magic, as you know, is more complicated, but more powerful than wand-waving. It involves greater forces than mere magical material. It evokes more deadly -"  
  
"Vashti release him!" "NOT until we get what we want. I will sit here all evening shouting random curses at him without lifting a finger until he cracks. There is a reason why he will not give us the stone. It's not good. I want to know why." She was becoming irritated.  
  
"Then at least let me deal with him. My methods are less bloody." She declared.  
  
"So be it. Well go on then, ask him what you want."  
  
Nebula walked over to him. She knew there was little time to spare. She knelt on the floor and pricked her finger for a droplet of purple blood. Then she closed her eyes and placed her finger on the circle, hence controlling its power.. "Speak! Why can't we have the Diamantez tonight?"  
  
The man stood defiant now he knew pain was coming. "Curse you! You cannot know! You are all damned anyway!"  
  
Well, as the saying goes, sometimes 'you have to be cruel to be kind'. "Incendere Algu." An icy beam shot out from the tip of the candle circled by a spiral of flames and struck the man's chest. He began to shake violently, then his eyes widened as he screamed. The spell meant 'to burn with cold'. The smell of roasting flesh was spreading. To stop the curse all she had to do was will it to stop, which she did. She sensed he was a weak one anyway. This would not take long.  
  
"Answer me! Now!"  
  
"Night.cursed.bad portent.red moon.end of the world." Sardis muttered in gasps.  
  
"Is that all? Yes? Sardis I am very disappointed in you. After all this time I thought you would have known better than to meddle in affairs that are not yours, or to your benefit. You must be punished." She paused meaningfully. "How old are you? None of my business?! Oh 47. You won't need that then. Women wouldn't touch you with a 9ft broom anyway." He knew exactly what she meant. His screams of horror at that statement could probably be heard in Diagon Alley.  
  
"No you can have it! Take everything! It is cursed that stone, many have died trying to get it as far as me. Please! Look I'll give you a discount! 50%! OK Ok.FREE then just don't do it, please don't, Mother of Mercy!" He cracked. Terrible. 99% of men have that weakness.  
  
"Why, Sardis! We didn't realize you had such an affiliation with 'Morius 'Jnr.''" Both women cackled cruelly. "Give us the Diamantez crystal." A small leather pouch fell to the floor beside her. Vashti opened it and revealed a tiny colourless jewel like diamond. She then placed it on the Dark Ring and under Nebula's cut finger. It glowed like amethyst. "It's true. Morius, try something like this again, and I will not forget my promise." That was a voice not to be reckoned with.  
  
"Somnifer. Alapa."  
  
The man flew backwards out of the Ring as if slapped hard across the face. The candle extinguished. The body hit the boards unconscious. Both women descended the dark stairs. Proserpine awaited them. "Is he.dead?" The witch inquired solemnly.  
  
"No, not yet."  
  
"Oh no! Ven he comes down he vill kill me vor sure. He always takes zese sings out on me.vot am I to do.Could you kill him for me? Please?" She pleaded. Vashti just laughed. Her gaze was unsettling, despite the fact that she hadn't seen her arrive. The eldest witch began to fidget.  
  
"Willingly we would, but not tonight. Just give him some kind of potion. He'll be out for a while. Tell me," Nebula inquired "to whom are you selling those tarantulae?"  
  
"To a teacher of Hogwarts. Severus Snape, I believe. Why?" If Nebula had been eating she would have choked.  
  
"Him? A private collector? Really?"  
  
"Yes, he has strange taste. Vot he dislikes, he prefers to see nailed on display than have it alive and happy. Especially vampires and verevolfs. He comes in here often to buy new books and see my stock." Now both women gaped.  
  
Suddenly Nebula demanded "Let me buy them. Now. Give him some excuse, like they ate something that disagreed with them and it killed them."  
  
"No, I cannot. No."  
  
"Look, I don't care how they come to be bound to you. Tell me, what will you have for them?" The witch's shock was great. This woman knew about the bond.  
  
"I.I don't know. For 50 galleons I sold both. I suppose I could give you one at the most, because I like you."  
  
"I will take it. I will collect it in the next few days, and you will unbind them. I absolve them from their debt to you. 30 galleons." Nebula sprinkled gold coins on the counter. "I'll take the blue and green one."  
  
"Very vell. But vot if he suspects?"  
  
"Then you may tell him the truth. He won't be pleased but he can take that up with me, Miss Zirconia. Good night." The older woman gasped and hobbled out of their way as they proceeded to the door. She had already heard of this evening's events.  
  
***What's so special about the spiders? Yes, I'm saving one of them from a horrible death. Or is it Sardis I am to watch? That I doubt. So, so far I am to recover that damned orb, something about spiders and, I really don't know. Sometimes I think I'm actually intelligent, then this sort of thing happens and I realize that I'm clueless. Uh oh.*** A strange force was pulling her back. It was over. The cold swirling of darkness invaded her vision. Cities and forests passed. Then it all stopped. Serenity in the silence took over. No more thoughts, just stillness.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The next morning, Nebula woke to the sound of tea being poured. She forced her sleepy eyes open to see a house elf by her bedside table with breakfast.  
  
"Will madam take breakfast this morning? Madam looks flushed this morning if she don't mind me saying so. Perhaps a fever?"  
  
"No I'm fine thank you and yes I'll have breakfast. Please leave." The elf left the tray by the table and disappeared. After that she crawled out of bed, got washed dreamily and ate it, while throwing on different outfits to see if they suited her mood today.  
  
"The dark blue dress is lovely. It would match you perfectly. You must wear the hat with it though; I think it's rather exquisite." Someone's opinion sprang from the large, overstuffed sofa by the flaming fireplace.  
  
"I'm going to be teaching children today, not flirting about with men. It's far too low cut and that hat wouldn't fit through a doorway anyway. But perhaps tonight at dinner I could - what? Go look in the mirror? What do you mean I-." Suddenly she cut off and sped into the bathroom. A scream was heard. Eventually a horrified and very frustrated woman appeared in the doorway.  
  
"What.have.you.done?" Nebula seethed. She was livid. And her face was an unmistakable shade of blue. And her eyes were red. Blood red.  
  
"Me? What did I do to deserve immediate accusation? I am innocent until proven guilty." After the look that her granddaughter gave her, she decided she had to change tactics. "All I did was scrape your crushed remains off the stairs at the base of the astronomy tower, to put it nicely, TWO nights ago. You've been sleeping ever since. I noticed at the time you seemed rather 'out of it' after I supposed you swan dived from the top of the tower. I don't know what went wrong, but it seems there must be, well, side effects that we were unaware of. Anyway, if I hadn't arrived, you would probably be at the mercy of that nurse-maid, Pomfrey. You know what she would do to you. To us. She cannot be trusted." Vashti then excused her mental state momentarily as the other woman lost control and demolished the room in her unstableness. After a good few swigs of quality firewhiskey, however, she seemed to be less violent.  
  
Once the situation had diffused, Vashti explained how she had covered for her and told the elves she was feeling slightly feverish - the one and only medical word they now knew. This kept nosy people at bay for a while. Then they discussed what to do about Nebula's new skin pigment problem. Neither could figure it out; this had never happened before. Eventually they decided that an illusion or concealment charm would be best for now. Of course these charms weren't permanent so it would best if she limited her social contact to a minimum until she was cured. If she was cured. They also noted that under no circumstances would they willingly go to any member of the staff for help. They 'wouldn't understand'.  
  
Then they got onto the interesting topic of what Vashti was doing last night to have found Nebula outside, and how come she was the one to find her in the first place.. 


	7. Detention First

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was early evening and dinner in the Great Hall had just ended. Hordes of satisfied and chattering children were already beginning to pile out into the corridors. The teachers, however, generally did not leave at the same time as the students, or by the same door. Many stayed a little longer to discuss private matters then exited by either door at the side to their sleeping chambers. One of them left rather quickly tonight.  
  
A tall man with black, greasy hair and a hooked nose, swept down the staircase to his chambers and along the corridor with aristocratic grace. He was in a hurry, for there a lot to be done tonight. Firstly he would mark all the painfully disgraceful essays from his junior classes during Potter and Weasley's detention; then at 9 o'clock he will patrol the corridors and the grounds for a while with Filch, a chance to clear his head and enjoy the peace (or even better - eat the faces off a few unruly students for 'sleep walking', preferably Gryffindors); finally then, he will return to his chambers and snuggle up to the fire with a strong drink in his left hand and a good book in his right. It really was the simple delights in life that could make all the difference. But for some reason, every time he actually looked forward to a peaceful moment in his routine, the Dark Lord or someone else had other plans for him.  
  
Suddenly the teacher swung left into a dead-end corridor and strode to the end. He reached up and twisted an unlit black candle on the wall. The stone bricks behind it melted away, leaving it suspended in mid-air. On the other side of it, appeared a small, faintly lit antechamber which contained only a heavy oak door held together by iron plates, and a rather menacing- looking stone gargoyle lurking in the shadows near the door. This was one of the secret entrances to his chambers and his classroom. As he approached the door, however, Severus felt hot eyes suddenly upon him. Continuing forward, he slipped his dark wand into the mouth of the keyhole, which turned out to be the head of a baby Basilisk centred between two entwined, silver serpents. The two stone-grey eyes smoldered red. Its tongue felt strangely warm.  
  
"venenum necare." At the sound of his deep, authoritative voice, the eyes flashed green with approval and the serpents uncoiled. After he had removed his hand, the weighty oak door swung open noiselessly to reveal the back of his storeroom lined with jars of ingredients, some fresh, others long dead, and a few simmering cauldrons. He knew it was a relatively long way of entering a room, using wards, but then safety and privacy were worth it. Besides, no matter what the other teachers said, he had a lot more to protect than they knew.  
  
After slamming the door shut behind him, the Potions Professor swiftly walked over to the stewing potions and stirred them, adding in bits of this and that each time. The viscous slime in the largest cauldron gradually became thinner and turned to a pale, sickly yellow. Severus' face was dark and grim. It was almost ready, and this was his most powerful draught yet.  
  
'This should keep him satisfied for a while. I dread to think how many Aurors will eventually die in the clutches of this potion. Dying at my hands. And I am supposed to be helping them. Damn this God-forsaken conscience!' the sinister figure realized with shame, as he gazed into the black cauldron. Yes, he does consider the horrible purposes of all the potions he has been instructed to make. And yes, he still does have principles after all these years of pillaging, slaughtering and raping. Except no one could ever understand this. They assume he will always be the heartless Death Eater who was granted the ultimate mercy to be allowed to live on. They would never know what really went on in his head. The memories he was forced to relive every night; the noises of plagued souls, their blood-curdling screams, and the inevitable silence which quickly died in the peals of that hollow, callous laughter. At times his sanity balanced on the edge of a knife. If his chambers weren't so far beneath the earth, the yells of a tormented, unloved soul would echo through the mighty corridors above. Sleep was no time of recuperation from the daily battle for him; it was merely a continued mental struggle that threatened to overwhelm and destroy him. Not that he was mentally instable. On the contrary, no lunatic could be able to sanction off different realms his mind allowing himself to focus and remain in complete control under intense pressure such as he. He had to, there was too much at stake. Not that he in anyway valued his own life. It was deemed worthless anyway. Being a spy amid the most powerful wizards in history left a man awaiting a most excruciating demise each day. And it wouldn't be a moment too soon, either. All that kept him going at times was his loyalty to the one man who believed him, trusted him even, when everyone else would give him the Dementor's Kiss. Albus Dumbledore. He owed his life to this man, and in more ways than one.  
  
It was 10 minutes later that Snape progressed into his classroom and bellowed for 'Potter' and 'Weasley' to enter. As soon as they stumbled in through the door they recognized he was in a particularly foul mood already. Normally he held death in his gaze when he saw Harry, but tonight he was surveying them as if they were two rotting piles of Giant manure and bubotuber pus being shovelled onto the floor of his immaculate room. His face was contorted in utter disgust, and not without good reason.  
  
"Sit." The professor instructed them sharply. "Due to your horrendous behaviour in my class today," he paused with a deadly gaze, "and your continued impotency to actually brew a potable potion, you will write out the correct method for making the Bleeding Potion AND its antidote, 50 times. Then, to prove that you have remembered it successfully, you will brew it. If you fail," his black eyes glistened at the thought, and his voice deepened "well I think we all understand what the consequences of that will be. As I'm sure does Mr. Malfoy."  
  
If Harry hadn't been at the full receiving end of that fierce look, he might at least have smiled inwardly to himself as he remembered the events of his Potions class that morning. It involved a relatively unplanned attempt to interfere with his archenemy's potion, Draco. Not that it needed it; he knew it was wrong even before he tampered with the antidote. It was meant to be green, not turquoise. All he and Ron did was fling a little extra brimstone to his potion when he walked away and say a few words to help it 'mature', when Malfoy returned. Simple. Not at all a shame when Draco's streaming nosebleed went from bad to worse and his perfect skin came out in boils after drinking the antidote. Yet for some reason, Professor Snape ignored all their protests of truth and sentenced them to a week of detentions and 20 points from their house. For this, and much more, even Hermione acquiesced to call him a "chauvinistic pig", which, after definition, was good enough for Ron, who sat with his head already nailed to the desk, scribbling.  
  
After 20 minutes, Harry's hand was aching. He desperately desired some sort of distraction, but could find none except the tip of his quill because every time he lifted his eyes, they met with the remorseless ones of the Professor, who needed no words to signal that looking up was a crime worthy of hanging. Finally he saw Ron rise, crack his knuckles and organize his equipment on the desk, ready to make the potion. All he needed now were the ingredients. But as he watched his companion walk over to the cupboard to collect a hunk of brimstone and a phial of muriatic acid distilled from thestral sweat, they both noticed there wasn't any. 'Oh no! Now what? He always refills his stock at the end of the day', Harry thought. He was about ready to brew the Bleeding potion too.  
  
"Problem, Weasley? Lost your seat? Stop loitering and sit down." Came the sardonic reply from the impassive man perched over a mountain of parchment glazed with red ink.  
  
"S-Sir you haven't...um.there isn't any acid or brimstone left. Sir." Harry felt for his mumbling friend at this moment.  
  
"What?" Snape's eyes shot up and scrutinized the boy in front of him intensely, then he sneered. "Perhaps if you pronounced your words properly instead of babbling them incoherently, you might find that English isn't such a hard language to learn after all."  
  
Ron's knuckles went white and the blood flowed to his face. He knew he wasn't the brightest kid, but he wasn't thick, just nervous. "THERE ISN'T ANY BRIMST-"he began loudly, but was sharply cut off.  
  
"I deciphered your meaning Weasley. Sit down! And 20 points from Gryffindor for taking that tone with me. Let it be the last." That was a quiet but firm warning not to be crossed. "Understand?"  
  
"Yes Sir." Harry gave his friend a look of encouragement as Ron took his seat and waited. The Professor continued hastily scrawling biting remarks on numerous papers, taking no further notice of the two fidgeting children before him, until at last he paused and set his quill into the ink bottle. Leaning back into his chair, he sighed with exasperation and carelessly waved a hand in the air. Harry was curious as to what this God-forsaken man was doing, so watched carefully. His teacher's eyes were shut and slightly focused. Then, after a moment, Ron's face dropped and his arm pointed toward something in the air behind the man. It was a small wooden box that had emerged from the shadows near the storeroom door. Opening his eyes, Severus brought it down to the desk in front of him and unclasped it. Immediately it sprung open, flooding his pallid face with orange light. Slowly he slipped his hand into the box and reemerged with 2 small chunks of rock. Then, with a horribly superior glint in his eye, he looked to the boys.  
  
"Catch." Tossing the two pieces at once in two directions at Ron and Harry, they were caught unawares. Of course the latter closed his fingers around the flying object instinctively, but immediately regretting it; the former, got hit on the head with his piece.  
  
It burned, scorching his skin. This wasn't the rock he had used earlier. It was lighter and radiated more energy. The raven-haired boy let it fall to the ground. His palm was raw. This was not good. How was he going to catch the snitch in the match against Slytherin tomorrow? This was not good. And it was all the fault of that git sitting in front of him.  
  
"Don't look surprised, Potter. You should think before you act. If you'd listened in my class, you would have known you don't possess the ability to touch refined brimstone. It's a pureblood thing. You simply aren't 'pure' enough." The Professor derided, satisfied. His evening wasn't going so badly after all. 'One down, one to go.' And the House Cup was in sight.  
  
After that, things just seemed to get worse for Harry. His hand was aching, but he knew better than to ask to go to the Hospital Wing. His Bleeding Potion was alright, but he couldn't crack the antidote. Several times he tried, but always got a thick gooey blob instead of a watery liquid. 'Screw this. I could be doing some valuable Quidditch practice now. Damn that arrogant, Slytherin bastard. He's doing this on purpose. Ron's right, he is an ugly git.' Harry moaned in his thoughts.  
  
Just then, the dark man to whom he was referring, scooped up the last pile of papers and stuffed them into a drawer. Slowly he stood up, folded his arms and walked over to Harry's desk. The boy was currently examining his method again for mistakes when he noticed a black shadow slide over him. Looking up to meet his professor's face, he met a bizarre sight; it was like the Devil's Redemption. This tall, sinister and malevolent creature of darkness with piercing black orbs, namely, the dreaded Potions professor and Death Eater, was encircled in an ethereal halo of candle light. It was frightening. It made Harry ponder for a split second that this fiend, actually mightn't be all bad. Yet this curious thought was immediately shattered by Snape's eternally mordant words.  
  
"How astute of you to come to such, conclusions. And all by yourself. Must be a personal best, Potter." He seethed, almost spitting out the last word. Then, before Harry could assure himself that he had not said those previous words out loud, the Devil's arms suddenly shot out and gripped the edges of the desk. There was no 'ethereal glow' around him now. He found himself blinking into the fiery eyes of the Abyss. Their faces were inches apart. The air between them became suffocating. The man's pitch black hair seemed to block out all the dim light in the dungeon. In an instant, all the increasingly apprehensive Harry became aware of, was Severus. He could feel the potent vibes flowing from the strong man's body, through the layers of black and jade satin, like a pungent odour. If vibes had a colour, he thought, this creature's would be black, swirled with a thousand shades of hatred, discontentment and powerful, restrained potential hidden deep within, coupled with dark, overwhelming desires tethered to his impregnable mind. Harry, however, couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away. He was under a spell. Thoughts and feelings swarmed over him that were not his own. They were chilling, painful and dominant. They were Severus'. After a long moment, Harry suddenly he became faintly aware of a loud clatter beyond their connection, and then a soft, cool but unnatural breeze passing between them. Finally he took a breath. Severus blinked, breaking their eye contact, but did not immediately pull away. Instead, he moved slowly closer, until his lips where poised over Harry's ear. Then the man whispered softly, almost inaudibly, words that only he could possibly think had a double meaning.  
  
"Watch your back, boy. Things aren't always what they seem. Especially 'arrogant Slytherin bastards'."  
  
*********************  
  
"I thought he was gonna have your guts for garters Harry! I thought he was gonna eat you alive! What did you do to deserve that? You should be thankful I dropped my cauldron and all that antidote stuff went everywhere. Well, OK, it was really bad for me, but well, there's only so many detentions he can give isn't there?" Ron said to Harry as they quickly walked away from their frightful detention in the dungeon. Wiping his head on his sleeve, the tall, red haired lad continued "That was stressful. Wait 'til Hermione hears. What did you do to deserve that? He said something about 'astute'? You didn't even say anything to him."  
  
So it was just as Harry feared: Snape could read his mind. Crap. Now it was a total of 3 people that could do that, including Voldemort. The latest being the worst. He had decided not to shame himself and reveal to his friends exactly what he'd said about Snape, and that he had completely picked up on his thought, which was a scary thought in itself. He didn't want to frighten them. But even more worrying was that trance he'd put him in. Snape had wanted Harry to get a glimpse of what it was like to be him, and he did. He didn't see memories, but harsh muffled screams and cruel orders had flooded his ears. Words formed in his mind and disappeared before they could be remembered. But worst of all, was the sensation of being dominated by a Death Eater; having Snape's presence all around him, and that close too. So close, it was almost intimate. And yet somehow, it hadn't been revolting to him. It was alluring. 'No!' Harry decided, 'these thoughts have to go, before I gross myself out.'  
  
By the time the boys had made it to their dormitory, they were already scheming ways to sabotage their next Potions class, possibly with the help of Fred & George's 'Inflamous Spitbombs', and Malfoy, the unwitting experimental ferret.  
  
"Ah, think of the possibilities.." And so, with these words, both now grinning boys slipped into the vast expanses of the Land of Nod, filled with visions of Cho or Ms Zirconia, winning the Quidditch World Cup Final or becoming rich and being Head Boy; but lastly, visions of murder, torture and cruciatus curses aimed at a tall, masked and impertinent Death Eater with a deep, luxurious voice, who couldn't explain to the Dark Lord as to why he was smiling when he was late for their meeting.  
  
******************** 


	8. The Foeglass

***************  
  
"I'm sure Professor McGonagall will be devastated to hear of this. I would be absolutely appalled if this had been a member of my House." His cutting words traveled crisply through the air as Filch held three small boys firmly in his grasp - the two smallest ones he held a foot off the ground, the tallest stood between him and the dreaded Potions Master.  
  
"Well how about we drop them off with her now? She'll be furious. Or should we watch them until tomorrow, Professor?" The haggard and shaggy warden revealed a set of rotting teeth accompanied by plenty of spaces, as he spoke. "These Gryffindor brats must be punished as soon as possible - we wouldn't want them thinking we were easy now."  
  
"I would love them to accompany me in the dungeons for a while." The satisfied Potions Professor whispered, discussing the fate of the terrified children, then he addressed them directly with an evil, ominous glimmer in his eyes. Slowly he lifted his hand to the largest boy's cheek, who jumped immediately at the deathly stroke. "Imagine all the fun we could have; all four of us in my special little torture chamber kept especially for naughty little first-years who won't sleep at night." The boys trembled at the thought. But before their minds could wander any more, Snape suddenly grabbed the largest and most bigheaded brat by the front of his jumper, hauled him up into the air and held him there, flailing unsteadily for a moment. That got his attention. "You want a real reason to not sleep at night Johnson?" He growled. "I'll provide you with a reason - I will give you horrific nightmares that will keep you wide awake until Christmas. Get my drift?" Oh he got it alright, judging by the speed he ran off at. That poor child; he would be scarred for life. He had just crossed the wrong guy. However that one night extinguished all his adventurousness forever. Snape had that effect on people sometimes.  
  
The only thing stopping Severus from taking the young Gryffindors for a midnight detention in his dungeon was simply that he didn't have much patience at this ungodly hour, and he decided it wouldn't be for the good of anyone's health if he left an evident trail of thoroughly disturbed children. So he calmly delegated the obligation of applying their appropriate punishments to the ever so delighted, Mr. Filch.  
  
By two in the morning, all the long, stone corridors of Hogwarts appeared void of mischievous life, so Severus decided it was safe to knock off for the remaining hours until breakfast. As he glided smoothly across the marble floored entrance Hall, Severus felt right at home. From the ancient, elaborate engravings which decorated every doorway, to even the still, crisp air that lingers when darkness falls. But what he admired most about this castle was its ability to entertain a few hundred, rowdy children during the day and yet regain its austere nobility in the dead of night. It was in this time that the voices of the past could be heard, whispering mysteriously through the corridors. It was the stronghold itself communicating to those within. Sometimes if Severus wasn't tired, he would place his hands on the worn floors or the doors and open his mind to pick up the voices. He always got a reply. It told of the ancients who lived and died there, the famous battles that were won and lost, but most recently, they spoke of an old but formidable force that had returned to the school to fulfill a promise past, and another contrasting one to fulfill a future destiny. These words meant a little to him, but were not significant enough to report to Dumbledore. He had his rather strong suspicions as to who these 'forces' were, after all, it was also his job to monitor these suspects and gauge their potential danger to the students. Again, it was plainly spying, something he must be good at by now. 'When will it ever end?' He wonders, but such things are not for him to decide. 'Serve to Rule' was his theory, but somewhere along the line it didn't go quite according to plan. All he seemed to do was 'serve', then vent his frustrations on the weaker ones in society, namely, everyone.  
  
His sable everyday cloak, slightly frayed at the bottom edge, still billowed in the cool draughts of the dungeons as he strode gracefully down the winding corridors leading to his classroom. Upon reaching the door, he stretched out his hand and traced the silver serpents in the centre of the door while whispering a few ancient words to arouse them. At the sound of his deep, vibrating masculine voice, their emerald eyes glowed as they uncoiled, revolved 3 times then returned to their original, entwined positions.  
  
Once inside it was very clear that this was no longer his classroom, but his bedroom. This place that was rumoured by all to be a replicated medieval torture chamber was in fact, one of the most luxurious quarters in the school. The whole bedroom was the area of both his classroom and his storeroom and it included a bathroom (Jacuzzi!!), personal potion cabinet, complete four-poster iron-railed bed with rich, bottle green cotton covers, a beech working table, a wardrobe, a leather sofa, a huge bookcase crammed with literature, and an awe-inspiring, one-of-kind, full-length of the wall, motionless painting of the one, the only, Sir Salazar Slytherin. It was Severus' most valuable possession, although technically it belonged to Hogwarts. It was the grand masterpiece of its time. It was created well before magical moving paintings were made, but even still, Salazar's ever scrutinizing and penetrating snake-like eyes continue to radiate supremacy and autonomy all around.  
  
As for the seemingly simple process of entering his bedchamber, well, it is only simple for him. Otherwise, those serpents are vicious and merciless. They are quick to bite those who even attempt to enter unauthorized, and their venom is undoubtedly a highly potent potion that the Master himself has concocted to be as excruciating and humiliating as possible. They are also utterly loyal and unaffected by any degree of magic used at Hogwarts. Normally they are uninteresting, solid metal plates in the doors. However, their special abilities originate in the beginnings of Hogwarts with their true master, Slytherin. So, upon reflection, there are no guesses as to what language the Head of the Slytherin House spoke. Only he could work a bit of Dark magic in Hogwarts and get away with it. Another thing is, the way he could walk up to his classroom door, and enter into his bedchamber. This is due to when the serpents' eyes glow and they revolve. What happens is a bit of an inter-dimensional illusion, like looking into the inside of a car and seeing a football pitch - it's virtual reality wizard style. Select and go.  
  
Severus Snape swept off his cloak and slung it over the back of the rich burgundy, leather sofa and pulled a decanter of glowing green liquid out of the cabinet. With the quick, fluid movements applied in potion-making, the professor poured the absinthe solution into a silver goblet and added a pinch of red powder which caused it to sizzle and foam slightly as he took a sip. After the twisted smile that played around his mouth caused by the initial unpleasant sting of wormwood, he strolled over to the rather large fireplace and leant his shoulder against the mantle-piece, peering thoughtfully into the smoldering red fire. After a further sip from the goblet, he tastefully licked the foam from his upper lip, tipping back his head for a moment, then slipped his left hand calmly into his pocket and brought his right ankle to sit neatly behind the other. The absinthe solution was for him a painkiller and sleeping draught, though much stronger with the red powder - his special crushed brimstone. An unusual combination, but the effect could give him an instant energy boost and let him rest in peace, when he needed. The only disadvantages were the undesirable side-effects - dangerously low blood pressure, bitter breath, sometimes bloodshot eyes, forgetfulness of distant memories, relaxation of the facial muscles and depression as a withdrawal symptom. Then again, with a stronger concentration of brimstone, it could also be a potent aphrodisiac.  
  
However, as he stood peacefully captivated by the random flickers of the flame, he felt his senses heighten and a growing sense of awareness of everything in the dark, gloomy room. Closing his eyes to the light, he let his mind become detached from his body. Deep in the moment, he reached out to test his mental powers to their limits while under the spell of the potion. Strangely, the first things he picked up, were two, low, passionate and suspiciously muffled voices coming from directly above him. He recognized them immediately. The male was a Gryffindor, the boy to match the voice would've been tall and lanky with intolerable red hair; the female, as much as it initially disgraced him, was a Slytherin of the name Pansy Parkinson. 'For Slytherin's sake, is Draco really that awful? What could possibly have driven her to such levels?' he wondered with sincere pity.  
  
"Love, perhaps? You scrumptious piece of flesh." Suddenly a completely unknown voice walked straight into his head.  
  
'What?!' Still floating about in his mind, he didn't reply out loud, but the shock of the random intrusion was evident. If he had have been about to swallow his drink, it would've been sprayed back into the fire by now. His mind had difficulty with the words 'you' and 'scrumptious piece of flesh' in the same sentence.  
  
"I could teach you a few things about that. I'm always happy to educate in these matters." The rich, womanly voice continued smoothly.  
  
'Excuse me! How? - Who -'  
  
"Purr, talk about a view... black and green, my favourite. impeccable mind too. appropriate ethics.. very worthy indeed. damn right you're a Master of Slytherin, miaow."  
  
Severus had to be now clearly horrified. It had to be some sort of prank. It was just too strange. The voice was unknown to him. or was it? Just then, it suddenly occurred to Severus that the voice wasn't aware that he could hear it. 'This could be. interesting.'  
  
Straining his senses to find the person to whom the voice belonged, he couldn't pin-point their exact location, but it was obvious that they standing somewhere in that very room. Cursing himself for not discovering them sooner, he returned to his wits and opened his eyes. Penetrating every possible shadow with his piercing gaze, he found nothing. Not even hiding in a cupboard. If he had found someone alive in his room without his knowing, firstly he would've torn them apart in every way, but then commended them for their hitherto impossible achievement. However, he quickly realized he had to get to the bottom of this: what if was a spy for the Dark Lord sent to check on him? That would prove fatal. Unknown voices were always something to be highly cautious of, for who knows where their allegiances lie?  
  
Severus calmly took his hand out of his pocket and slipped it inside his black and green sequined waistcoat, returning a moment later with a small, oval shaped mirror. Pretending to be examining the little mirror, he slowly swiveled it around at an angle that allowed him to observe all without moving his head. What he saw, was not the complete reflection of the room, but its outlines. The outlines of his bed, the door, the table, and faint, very faint human shadows that moved listlessly through space were just visible in an oblique blur. Then Severus stopped. He had found who he was searching for.  
  
A beautiful Lady stood over by his bed, her arms twisted lasciviously around the nearest black iron pole. She was a beauty not from this world; that much he knew. Her aura was dark and powerful, reaching out to him, creeping trough the atmosphere. Her eyes glowed rich emerald, like the painting that hung on the wall. Her skin was the texture of thick cream; her visage bloodless yet cruelly voluptuous. A pink tongue darted out from between ivory teeth to moisten her full lips. Her hair was long, exotic, and pitch black like his. Once a long time ago, he mused, this woman would've been intensely passionate, exciting and Mediterranean. But for some reason, she changed. A Dark Force corrupted her willing and avaricious spirit. She must have let it happen voluntarily; she must have deeply loved the one who changed her. Severus felt great pity for her and yet at the same time, he was apprehensive at being so close to this ancient, sinister, seductive creature. He had no idea why she in his bedroom, how she got there, and why she seemed so interested in him, but he was especially curious as to what she was doing to that bed pole.  
  
Severus replaced the mirror into his inner waistcoat pocket then reached out for his silver goblet and took a deep swig. 'Perhaps this stuff is going to my head' he thought as he gazed into the effervescence. After a moment he replaced the goblet and folded his arms, still leaning against the fireplace, and let his eyes once again fall on the flames below. But this time, he kept his wits about him and allowed his heightened senses to explore everything. Now he had to be wary of what he said, bearing in mind the volatile temperament of the mysterious, invisible woman who had not yet revealed her purpose for being there.  
  
"What do you want?" The tall, dark man asked politely with only a hint of displeasure. A considerable silence followed.  
  
"Just to introduce myself." The eloquent voice spoken aloud was even more seductive than before.  
  
"And when, may I ask, were you planning to do that?"  
  
"Well, not just yet, to be honest." She answered with a conniving edge to her tone. He didn't even know her, but he could tell there was strong irony in there somewhere. When the voice spoke again, its source had moved away from the bed.  
  
"How did you know I was here?"  
  
"I think I should be the one asking all the questions." He replied sharply. "Let's start with, who are you, why are you here, and who do you work for?" He realized he was seriously disadvantaged already in this interrogation - he couldn't even see the guilty party, so to disguise this, he locked gaze with the eternal fire. He should be safe with that.  
  
"Then I will reply with, that should not be your concern, I'm here of my own accord and I work for no man alive." Every word was deadly serious. There was something in her selection of words that dared him to challenge her. Severus was not a man to miss subtleties; however, at times he just blatantly ignored the warning signals.  
  
"Tell me, or the punishment will be so great, silence will not be worth your while." He whispered threateningly. A chilling breeze blew against the fire. He sensed an incorporeal presence in the air..  
  
"Lower your guard, Severus, besides there is nothing you can do to harm me. We are both on the same side in truth." Now he recognized that sweet voice. Except last time, it was cold and hollow as it echoed along the corridor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
"I would like to believe that. However, I have gained a profound distrust of things that I cannot see or feel, over the years." Severus' deep voice resounded cautiously around the chamber.  
  
"Ah, but I can be seen, and I can feel. Or at least, I can, you." He subdued a cold shiver that ran down his spine as the voice laced with honey and arsenic implied unnerving things. He could feet the woman's cold presence move closer behind him. "You know who I am, I can tell. You saw me in that mirror of yours, that special foeglass." Her voice was as rich and alluring as his own, except more feminine.  
  
"Severus, you have seen me, and now you cannot live life without me. No man who has ever seen me in this state has lived," colourless, warm fingers stroked back a strand of his black hair tenderly (causing Severus to jolt suddenly and loose eye contact with the fire), "until now. You are different. You have so much unfulfilled potential. Your miserable upbringing has stunted you in many ways, your poisonous father who drove you further into darkness." At this Severus turned his head sharply to shoot a look of horror and slight at. well, space, but before he could demur, a firm hand gripped his solid shoulder and whispered longingly in his ear. "I can help you be what you've always wanted to become. I can fulfill your most carnal desires. I can understand what haunts you. You know who I am, yet you refuse to believe it. Don't. I want you. Let me take all your troubles away forever. Please. Give yourself to me, give. " The Lady's enchanted voice rang in his ears like a spell. Everything was sickeningly sweet. Too sweet. His mind was racing. All the promises and possibilities. Then it hit him. She was tampering with his mind, and he hadn't detected it. No one had ever achieved that before, except perhaps the Dark Lord. Swiftly regaining his composure, his eyes darkened and he broke from her grasp, pushing her away hard.  
  
"No! I refuse. You treacherous demon! Salacious vixen! You attempt to win me with these words? I will not help you achieve your endeavours. I want to do what is right, not what is easy, not what I want." Severus bellowed. The effort of resisting the Temptress left him breathing deeper than before.  
  
"You are mine, Severus. I have chosen, and so has my beloved. He has approved you, and you will fulfill his wishes regardless." The voice fell as cold as marble. A cold chill flew down the chimney into the room. The pale glow of the fire diminished. Evil darkness encroached him. He quickly made for the door, knowing he wouldn't make it. Something tough and slippery wrapped around his ankle causing him to stumble. Then it pulled back hard, making him land firmly on the floor. Lying motionless a little in front of the glowing embers, he heard an excited woman inhale deeply above him.  
  
A foot slowly caressed the inside of his thigh. Gentle hands felt their way from his loins up across his waistcoat then back again. Long legs straddled his sides. A firm body spread over his chest. Fingers traced his smooth jaw- line expertly. Warm breath fought the chilling air previously biting against his lips. "Where is this going, exactly?" he questioned uneasily.  
  
The back of a hard but warm hand hit his cheek. "Be silent! No one gave you permission to speak." The woman snapped sharply. His face was now stinging and there was an invisible demoness using a form of punishment on him that he'd never experienced before. It had the effect of creating sensations in parts of his body that he thought were long dead. And it didn't look like he was getting out of it any time soon. Oh well.  
  
Nimble fingers resumed their caressing. As they moved around the back of his neck, a soothing shiver ran along his spine. She knew all the right places. He shut his eyes and slowly relaxed. Hands explored under the layers of black satin. Both let out gasps of surprise and pleasure. Warm, moist lips enveloped his neck lasciviously, hungry for the taste of pure flesh. They moved up over his chin and poised over his mouth. They seemed in no hurry to descend. Severus realized this was a test. How long could he resist against his desires? Seconds flowed desperately into minutes. Minutes of unbearably close physical contact, but still he did not give in. Nothing on earth could make him lose his steady control (except perhaps Potter on a really bad day). Then the illustrious, irresistible voice returned once more.  
  
"Come, Severus. Taste my sweet juices. Sample the fruit of my lips." Her seductive words blew back a strand of pitch-black hair from his face. He opened his eyes and slowly turned his face to the fire in rejection. It was enough for her to get the hint.  
  
A low growl hit his eardrums first. Lips sucked deep onto his neck. Teeth planted into his flesh. Fangs pierced his vein. Then the pain began. At first he imagined it sprang from his chest, but as the weight above him lifted, his whole body began to tremble. His veins were burning with her toxic venom. His mind was going numb and his eyes rolled in his head. The pain was as strong as any cruciatus curse he had been put under before. Then suddenly the burning tripled. Waves of hot green light surged into his chest, beating him into the stone. Severus desperately wanted to scream, but something in the dark recesses of his mind told that begging for mercy only ever caused more intense agony. After a minute, when he knew his was on the edge of consciousness, the burned stopped. His veins still tingled like burnt flesh, but the source was gone, the venom purged. Then as blissful, black oblivion drowned his senses, a peal of exotic laughter caught his ears.  
  
"Sweet dreams my accursed child of Slytherin."  
  
******************************  
  
Severus blinked hard when he opened his eyes and found himself sprawled on top of a silky jade quilt with only a pair of black belted trousers to clothe him. His first conscious thought was obviously very disturbing to say the least. He hadn't a clue what had happened last night except for a very weird feeling that originated in his neck, and somewhere else. He felt somehow stronger than before. Younger. More virile. More determined. More evil. And at last, free from his conscience. He didn't believe it; he couldn't believe it - it was far too good to be true. Then as he pulled himself up on his bed and placed a hand to his head, a elegant figure of a beautiful woman moved into his vision. She was standing below the huge painting of his principal, Salazar Slytherin, and whispering reverently to it in a long dead language. Though it wasn't dead to Severus.  
  
"It won't be long now, my love. Just a little longer, and all will be complete." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She smiled jubilantly and her eyes glazed over momentarily. Flashes of last night filled Severus' mind as he gazed upon her. Pain, pleasure, abuse and deep, dark satisfaction. His mind rung with images that he swore must have something to do with adding too much brimstone to the absinthe. An uncharacteristically salacious grin rose to his lips as the flashes became clearer. Yet before he could delight himself in the particulars, a sudden burning, throbbing pain briefly immobilized his left arm. The realization of what it meant almost caused him to blast off his arm in frustration. 'Why now? WHY?' he moaned inside. Then suddenly the eerie woman standing to the corner of his dungeon turned to lock him with her familiar poisonous stare. Her emerald orbs glowed strangely.  
  
She slowly glided over to the bed and knelt beside him, never blinking. He challenged her by returning his own dark, patented gaze as she moved her face closer to his. A long, slender hand passed over his features, drawing his lips apart. Still they never broke their gaze. The air between them however was becoming electric. Her hand continued to caress his face. A thumb slipped through his lips onto his moist, awaiting tongue. The woman tactfully licked her lips as she played with him, knowing what she was doing to him. At last he couldn't hold back any more; he went to kiss her, but she denied him by placing her finger between their enflamed lips. Laughing at his obvious distress, she caressed his hard, mature chest, examining all his weaknesses, until he groaned and grabbed her thin arms, pushing them behind her. Then suddenly his facial expression hardened.  
  
"Excuse me, madam. One thing I demand to know," Severus whispered in his deadly Potions Master tone that would make the unquestionably innocent admit to cold-blooded murder, "is that a love bite on your neck?"  
  
The woman was startled at the strange question and automatically replied, "Where?!"  
  
"Why. right here." Severus' deep, passionate purr was almost lost as his warm mouth enveloped the creamy skin. She dug her long fingers hard into his exposed back, leaving eight stinging ridges along his spine, in their desires.  
  
"Severus!" The woman whispered painfully after a long minute. He finally tore himself from her and gasped deeply. He rose from the bed and turned to the painting on the wall. He pretended to be examining its elaborate frame, but in fact he was still recovering from what had just got over him. Something's not right, he thought.  
  
He heard the bed creak and footsteps move over to his wardrobe. A moment later they shifted over to behind him and waited patiently. He turned to find the Lady standing with a black and green waistcoat and shirt slung neatly across her arms.  
  
The smooth curves of Vashti's face could not now conceal the malice and deception that lay rooted beneath her calm complexion. When she spoke, however, Vashti's voice rang with a strict, almost maternal dominance that was so peculiar, it chilled even Severus' cold heart to the core.  
  
"Go. Lucius awaits your news."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	9. Evil Plans

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"We have located the whereabouts of the Orb, my Lord. It is ready for collection whenever you desire." A dark hooded figure informed as knelt on one knee at the foot of a throne.  
  
"And what of the Key?"  
  
The figure raised his head slightly. Two silver eyes glinted cruelly in the dawn light as it trickled through the large stained, circular window beyond the throne before him. "I am delighted to report to my Master that I have also uncovered the object vital to unlock the Orb."  
  
The Dark Lord straightened in his seat. His face was silhouetted by the colourful rays from the window. His searing eyes analysed the man before him for the slightest trace of lies and dishonesty. He found none, as he expected, for Lucius was one of his most sincerely devoted followers. "Go on."  
  
"Last night when I was visiting Knockturn Alley, I was fortunate enough to witness a duel between the last member of the Harem of the Orb and another woman by the name of Miss Zirconia. The latter is the one who is of greatest importance to us. She possesses the Key; it is as a necklace, and could only have been given to her by her mother when she returned from deepest Africa, the origin of the Orb itself. Her mother was Lady Sophia Cadaver."  
  
"How did you acquire this information? I trust it is reliable?" The Dark Lord quietly expressed his doubts before committing himself to this splendid news.  
  
"I heard it from her very lips, my Lord." The red-eyed man raised an eyebrow to Lucius' tone. "We were. briefly acquainted some time ago." Voldemort sensed a ripple of concealed humiliation sweep through the emotions of the man before him. Perhaps they should have a 'talk' sometime, he considered. Legilimancy happened to be a common occurrence, however, in such events. After a pause, the man's eyes began to glow with a wicked radiance. It made his corpse-like face seem almost alive.  
  
"Well done. This confirms the Legends, then," His voice was suddenly breathless and strained with unexpected excitement, "and hence heightens the importance of Severus' report to us." The Dark Lord gripped the arms of the chair until it seemed his bones would break. His intense eyes connected with his subject's. The next second, his commanding voice shattered the fragile silence. "You have my prior instructions Lucius, and now you have my command."  
  
He turned his gaze to three, solitary entities lurking in the shadows by the large doorway at the end of the Hall. Each black, cloaked figure moved forward immediately into the brilliant circle of light before him, as if they had patiently awaited his summons.  
  
"You all know what to do. Bring me the Key, but as importantly, I now also want the woman very much alive. Take time to organize yourselves. There should be no rash decision-making." His fiery eyes lit on the slender creature to the left, whose full lips caught in the light before they bowed to his gaze. "Use any methods necessary to succeed. Kill as you wish, as I know you will, and torture the rest. But save the woman for me. That is an order, Flint. I know I do not need to remind you all that I do not accept failure from anyone. Now go." The three figures swept off quietly down the Hall and melted into the lingering darkness of the corridor. Voldemort continued to address the remaining individual at his feet, but his sharp voice was now much quieter.  
  
"Lucius, I did not reveal this, but the woman's necklace has more deadly powers as a Dark Object than I suspect even she is unaware of. You know not to touch the necklace, but the others do not. Be prudent, Lucius, in this advantage. Do not be tempted either. I have lost many skilled Death Eaters to stupid mistakes."  
  
"I understand completely, my Lord."  
  
"And also keep an eye on Severus. He will provide all the necessary information for your mission, however, he must not know of these recent developments. He has an alarmingly sharp mind so be over wary. I know it will be a challenge for you to better our dear Snape in a matter of intellect, but remember; my punishments for failure will hurt more than merely losing your pride to a comrade." The derisive warning in the final comment was unmistakable. And Lucius wouldn't forget it. Insulting his pride was dangerous enough to those who wished to ever have children, but comparing him to that greasy, ungrateful, two-faced mastermind? That sunk in deep.  
  
"You are dismissed." With a wave of Voldemort's bony hand, Malfoy was gone.  
  
Silence. The meeting was over; the board was set, but the pieces were yet to move. He knew not what the outcome would be, but it was the only card he had left to play. Silence. How ironic, he thought, he was planning to slaughter millions from the inside of a derelict cathedral, a place of peace and security. He turned and looked at the stained-glass window that had caught the eyes of many of his followers that meeting. There were two men, both with yellow haloes, and a distressed woman. One man stood gazing remotely at the scene below while the other lay broken upon the earth, a calm expression of agony etched into his visage, his bleeding vessel supported by the woman. Silence. Voldemort angrily lifted a finger and pointed it at the remote man. There was something he didn't like about this man, something so virtuous, so superior, so. so Albus Dumbledore. The glass figure shattered violently into a thousand tiny pieces, tinkling harmoniously on the marble floor beneath, but chorused by the demonic wails of the Dark Lord.  
  
"If only it was that easy! I'll destroy you before this is over! Mark my words your days are numbered Dumbledore! So proclaimeth Lord Voldemort!"  
  
When Wormtail scuttled furiously into the Hall with his wand in hand, the sight that lay before him stopped him in his tracks and made him scuttle right back out again. His Master was clearly beyond furious. He was even beyond murderous. He was alternating between paroxysms of explosive fury and unbearable, pitiful laughter. He was bent over the limestone alter, his forehead pinned against it, banging his clenched fists on the stone, screaming threats beyond comprehension. One thing was clear though, with Voldemort's new, mysterious Dark toy, Albus Dumbledore was one helluva dead man walking. 


	10. Tunnel of the Secret Snake

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The Great Halls of Hogwarts were grand and comforting during the day and usually echoed with screams of horror or childish laughter, but at night however, all that changed. Now they appeared to have narrowed sharply, the stone much colder and unwelcoming, as if the gloomy walls themselves sensed the unlawful presence of the three intruders.  
  
Muffled footsteps moved along the corridors, pulling close to the walls at every unknown sound. The only light illuminating their path came from the lantern hidden well beneath their cloak. No moonlight revealed their way tonight. The grand windows were coated in a fine film of silver mist. Droplets of water seeped through cracks in the joinery as a powerful storm began to manifest itself outside. Wind whistled down the halls, causing the three figures to halt in their guilty tracks.  
  
"Wait!" a young female voice whispered.  
  
"What now?!" a harsh, broken male one replied.  
  
"I see something!"  
  
"Not again!"  
  
"No, really... Quick! Over there!" The three figures grouped under one cloak shuffled over to a nearby statue beside a trophy cabinet and stood behind it, waiting for the other creature to pass over them.  
  
At the far end of the corridor appeared the twinkling glimmer of another lantern. The three held their breath tight. A long shadow hovered momentarily on the wall before them then glided almost instinctively towards their statue. Soft, calculated footsteps padded ever closer, almost inaudible on the stone floor. The children strained their senses to identify the sinister creature approaching them, but before they could move, a long, black sleeve was suddenly draped across the shoulders of the statue – inches from Hermione's nose. In her surprise she almost let out a yelp, but her next breath was immediately removed by one savage word, uttered from the mouth of a dreadfully familiar character.  
  
"Potter." Snape's eyes were gazing directly at the spot where her friend's head just happened to be. She felt Harry stiffen beside her; his face was ashen. Had they been discovered already? How? They hadn't even done anything yet. He was beginning to sense that someone out there was against him going down to the dungeons tonight.  
  
"You must think you're really something. Best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in over a hundred years, and with talents in areas that I myself am not entirely proficient. Damn you, Potter. Defied the Dark Lord countless times and yet can't even achieve 'Acceptable' in a simple Potions test. Poor child, I suppose," his eyes shifted to the trophy cabinet, "thankfully no parents, but seriously lacks proper guidance and discipline; pity he wasn't in Slytherin, we could easily have sorted out that little problem ... pity." The Professor's black eyes gleamed at the thought. Slowly he removed his arm and let his gaze slide back to Harry's face before sweeping off down the corridor in a fury of billowing black robes.  
  
The gasps of the children's relief when the nightmare had passed were rather louder than intended.  
  
"Did he know you were there, Harry?" Hermione whispered uncertainly.  
  
"I... I don't know for sure either way." His voice was feeble and nervous.  
  
"Oh just forget it Harry, he couldn't have known you were here." Ron's reassuring voice cut above Hermione's next question. "He was just talking to himself, that's all. Probably saw your name on the shield in the cabinet and had to pull a thorn out of his arse for a while. You know, vent some steam?"  
  
"Ron!" The girl shot him a look of severe disapproval at his use of language.  
  
"C'mon. We've some exploring to do! Or else I've a bed to go to."  
  
**********************  
  
'Click' the door was open at last. Their eyes quickly scanned the darkness for any sign of life. When they were sure it was safe to enter, Harry ran over to the large desk covered in sheets of parchment and searched for clues, Hermione attempted to unlock the smaller door at the back of the room and Ron looked around for anything else suspicious. Harry took the lantern and Ron used his wand for light. After a minute of action, Hermione succeeded in opening the door and called for Harry to bring her the lantern, but at that moment, he stopped.  
  
"Hey I've found something here... look!" He held up a small piece of tattered parchment to the light. It had several words scrawled over it in purple ink.  
  
"What is it?" Hermione appeared at his side first.  
  
"I'm not sure, I can't make out all the words. Can you?" She took the piece from him and scanned the information quickly until a look of anxious understanding spread across her face.  
  
"I think it's a list of ingredients, probably for some very strange potion. Some of these things I have never heard of before, besides the fact it isn't written in modern English. Here it says '1. One Diamantezkrystal or Plumsappe; 2. Olde Vampyre fangs circa millennium / drop of Sanguis-Animagum; 3. Powder'd Werewolffe clawes. 4. the Usual Elementary's – wormwood, water, brimstone & dragon's breathe.' How strange... Harry, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm beginning to wish I hadn't seen this. I have a horrible feeling that this is only some of the ingredients of a seriously Dark Potion. I've never even heard of 'Diamantezkrystal' before, but the only time I've come across the words 'The Usual Elementary's', was by accident in the restricted section of the library when we were looking for Nicholas Flammell. This has got to be some very nasty medieval Alchemy."  
  
"Not good then?" came a half-hearted sarcastic comment from behind. Ron was waving his wand about in the darkness of the newly opened room, paying only minimal attention to what they were saying.  
  
"Ron, what are you doing?! You'll knock something over! Here's the lantern." Hermione abandoned the parchment and entered the even gloomier storeroom. It was fairly small and the four walls were lined with shelves, only some of which actually contained anything. However, in the centre was a solid wooden table on top of which was something that frightened Hermione much more than the Potion ingredients she had just read. It was a great, dirty-big spider. In a flimsy cage. And its eight bulging eyes were aimed directly at her. Not to mention those black, venomous fangs that began to ooze some watery substance as it gazed at Hermione.  
  
"Ah R-Ron, RON!" Now was the time to reveal that 'lion-like, Gryffindor courage'.  
  
"What?" He answered from the other side of the room, squinting into a dark corner, obviously oblivious of the room's occupant.  
  
"Eh, emm, there's nothing really in here; we should go check somewhere else... now." She slowly edged her way around the periphery of the room, never taking her eyes off the massive spider metres in front of her. Eventually her hands came across someone's jumper in the corner; it was Ron. She decided the only way they stood a chance of survival here, was if Ron didn't see the tarantula waiting to burst out of its cage at them. She gripped the back of his jumper like it kept her alive.  
  
"Ron, let's go. Harry needs us in the other room. NOW." Her voice got weaker and weaker. She couldn't believe that Ron still hadn't noticed that there was something wrong.  
  
"Has he found something?" The red headed boy stood up excitedly. Hermione tugged him hard in the direction of the door, her eyes flickering like lightning between Ron's face and the cage.  
  
"Something like that." The spider moved. She tugged harder. A few seconds later they were almost at the door, when it moved again. What was it doing? She wondered. Then she realized. It was opening the cage and about to crawl out. Without warning, she trailed Ron over to the door and thrust him out so hard, he crashed into Harry at the other side, leaving her two seconds to throw herself out of the room before the spider leapt off the table, scuttled across the floor and sunk its gory pincers into her leg. And that's almost exactly what it did do. All it didn't achieve was the last part. Hermione ran too fast for that to happen. She slammed the door so hard in its face, she reckoned that 'thud' was now a pile of blood and black hair. Hopefully. The down-side was that the sound of her banging the heavy door shut could probably be heard at the top of the astronomy tower.  
  
Hermione leaned back on the door and took a few desperately needed deep breaths. But before relief could wash over her, she heard a gentle scraping noise on the other side of the door. Then, there was another thud as a long, slippery, black spike pierced through the door, inches from Hermione's frozen leg.  
  
"Seal the door! Quick!"  
  
Harry whipped out his wand and uttered the spell to seal the door. Ron snapped out of his trance and rushed over to Hermione and tore her away from the door. She lay momentarily in his arms with her head buried in his chest.  
  
"We must go NOW! I wouldn't bet 2 galleons that Snape or Filch didn't hear that. Here, under the cloak!" Harry whispered feverishly. Within seconds all three of them were under the cloak and scrambling out of the door into the deserted corridor, leaving behind a furious tarantula desperate to wrench its venomous spike from the door.  
  
The three of them rushed into a nearby corridor and huddled in a niche until they heard the moans and groans of Filch pass by. Several minutes later, Harry and Ron were pestering Hermione as to why she acted so rashly. How could she turn round to Ron and say, 'Well if you had opened your eyes a bit wider, you would have seen a great, dirty-big spider with blue stripes and a green squiggle on its head, waiting to pounce on you and sink that icky spike into the back of your neck!' Well, that actually is what she said to him, and she got the reaction she expected.  
  
"What! Why didn't you say?!" The poor boy was hyperventilating at Hermione's surprisingly graphic description of his worst nightmare.  
  
"Because I knew you'd react like this." She replied simply.  
  
"I could have died in there!"  
  
"No, really? No thanks for the one who saved your life, I see." She only used sarcasm when she was annoyed.  
  
"I'm sorry; it's just a lot to take in." Ron hung his head in shame under the cloak.  
  
"Hermione, all I'm saying is, you didn't see Aragog. Now, I think we've all had enough adventure for one night. Let's go to back to our dorms." Harry suggested and stood up to leave.  
  
"But the night has only just begun." A strange female voice drifted from the shadows of the dark, unfamiliar corridor.  
  
"Who is that?" Harry replied nervously. Ron and Hermione stood up as well. There was no reply. Then as Harry peered further into the encroaching darkness, a small emerald-green light appeared and wafted lazily along the corridor towards them, accompanied by the cool mysterious voice.  
  
"What brings three Gryffindors along this corridor tonight? Is it desperation? Guilt? Or perhaps, Fate?"  
  
"We didn't do anything, we just came down here to see what that noise was about, that's all." Harry dug his elbow into Ron's ribs for opening his mouth and warned him not to say something stupid like that again. Who knows what strange creature this was, lurking in the shadows. At least they had been warned not to go into the 3rd floor because Fluffy was there, but they'd never even realized this corridor existed until tonight. They could see not reason for wanting to go down it at any rate; it was cold, dark and it seemed like the walls would swallow up anyone who dared descend into the darkness.  
  
"Really? And they say 'Never trust a Slytherin', but I say never trust three Gryffindors, especially ones with lies written across their foreheads. " The cool, silky voice was beginning to irritate Harry; it was too smooth and had a dangerous undertone to it.  
  
"You can't see us, whoever you are. Don't worry Ron; she can't hurt us inside Hogwarts."  
  
"Au contraire, my boy, au contraire. You really don't know who you're dealing with. Neither does Dumbledore. But you will soon see." The voice trailed off, echoing down the corridor, leaving behind the faint, eerie light which danced about in the air, back and forth.  
  
"Harry let's go please. I'm getting the feeling it's not safe to be here. I want to get out of these dungeons; they've been really creepy tonight." Hermione whispered into her friend's ear and held his arm. He agreed and they moved immediately out of the corridor, not looking back into the darkness with the eerie light that wafted just over Ron's face, luring him further into the void.  
  
A minute later, hovering at the entrance of another corridor looking out for Snape and Filch, Hermione turned around to check if Ron was behind her – he wasn't.  
  
"Harry! Ron's gone!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"He's not behind us! He must be back there! Oh no! I could have sworn he was behind me."  
  
Swiftly, they reversed back to the entrance of the mysterious corridor where they had last seen Ron. He wasn't there. They couldn't shout out for him or someone else would hear them. They had no choice but to go in, watched closely by the ophidian eyes of Vashti, Queen of darkness.  
  
********************  
  
The corridor seemed to extend forever. Eternal darkness. The lantern burned dry ages ago, and the light from their wands was hardly powerful enough to fight back the shadows. The air was still. Silence abounded. After minutes of feeling their way through the stone corridor, not knowing what they would find, or where it was taking them, they met a third wall. It was a dead end.  
  
"No! This cannot be! He can't just have disappeared like this! There must be a trap door or a secret passage! Feel around the wall for something, anything." Hermione was clearly distraught. The musty air, the tense silence and the cold was getting to her. Yet as soon as Harry laid his hand on the stone surface, a sconce appeared, then another one a metre away.  
  
"Hermione did you not feel that? You were standing right there a minute ago." Harry questioned.  
  
"No, but I couldn't have missed it, a big metal thing like that." She raised her hand to touch the sconce. It went straight through. "Harry! This is weird. How can you feel it and I can't?"  
  
"I have no idea. But look, there's a snake coiling round it; the snake emblem of Slytherin. Perhaps if I talk in Parseltongue again it will open." Harry wondered. Hermione agreed it was worth a try. Despite the dangers of what could lie on the other side, they had to get their friend back.  
  
Harry reached up, held the sconce tightly and tried every word he could think of in Parseltongue, concentrating unusually hard. Finally Hermione suggested he try words to do with snakes, death or Slytherin himself instead of 'Open Sesame.' After two tries and an unexpected twist of the sconce, the stones melted away, revealing a dark, rectangular room with lots of tunnels and doors leaving it.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I was just listing random words... I think it was something like 'Tunnel of the Secret Snake'. Where are we?" Harry said when they entered the room.  
  
"If I remember correctly this was Slytherin's way of sneaking about in the castle. Or so says 'Hogwarts, A History'. It's a secret web of tunnels and doors that lead to different corridors. Look," she pointed to a door on the wall labeled 'Prefects' toilets – girls'. "let's try one." Harry walked up to that door and opened it slightly. Sure enough, inside was a line of cubicles, wash hand basins, and a Jacuzzi. 'The injustice' he muttered.  
  
"This is amazing." She whispered in awe. "Do you realize what we've found? Like the Chamber of Secrets this place was only mentioned in legends. Its existence was never truly proven. Those that found it, um, well, I'll tell you later. Anyway, we must find which one Ron's gone down. I suspect it would've been one near where we entered. There's one there that comes out on the second floor. Near the Room of Requirement I think." Both moved over to the door.  
  
Hermione placed her hand on the brass handle. She had a strange feeling about this one. Suddenly she didn't want to open this door. Her instincts told her that she wouldn't like what she would find on the other side. A sensation of fearful foreboding swept through her. This was the door.  
  
"Go on, Hermione. We must find Ron before it's too late."  
  
Hermione turned the handle. The door swung open. A rush of cold air swept past her. Dim light filtered through the darkness. Dim, Green light.  
  
Hermione screamed. A cascade of tears broke over her smooth face. She fell to her knees at the sight before her.  
  
"Ron!!!"  
  
A/N I've decided: Im gonna be busy with exams and other stories for a while, and I also feel slightly discouraged by the lack of reviews here. PLAESE R&R!!PLEASE! its lets me know ppl r reading this shit. It means a lot to me. Seriously ;) boohoo. Neway. Ill stop being random. I'm not continuing and breaking the killer suspense until I get another review. There. Done. 


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